Of Vulcan Bondage
by dstrekharrylover
Summary: Spock and Christine go on an away mission to a planet run by women. The populace is peaceful but extremely hedonistic ... and the leader develops a fatal attraction to Spock. Some OC's herein.
1. Chapter 1 & 2

**_Of Vulcan Bondage  
By J.M. Lane_**

**one **

"This mission is going to be difficult," Captain James Kirk told the other two sitting at the Briefing Room table with him. "Especially for beings of our gender, Spock. This planet is totally run by women. The only way they'll allow an outsider male on the planet is if a female accompanies him. They have agreed to speak with us on the condition that two of us conform to their ways for two weeks.

"If, by the end of that time, we have done so to their satisfaction, they will discuss mining rights with us. They have also applied for Federation membership, and we'll consider their application based on your reports. You must call the women 'My Lady'. The male slaves call their...owners 'mistress'. Using the women's personal names is considered disrespectful, except between the women themselves. The slaves call each other by their given names."

"So what does all that mean?" Christine Chapel asked warily. It would be her responsibility to see to it that the mission was successful.

"Also, their native dress resembles the ancient Arabic dress on Earth. The natives are hedonistic in the extreme. Men are little more than playthings used by the women for their amusement—or sexual satisfaction when it suits them. They're peaceful otherwise, so if you can get through the next two weeks, we're home free. Your travel bags contain native clothing... which is, unfortunately, quite brief in comparison to ours.

"For instance, Miss Chapel, your outfit consists of a glittery bandeau and sheer over-vest, panties and sheer harem pants—the trappings of a native Princess from a far province. There are matching shoes and earrings, and a special perfume the native women wear, but that is optional. You may wear your own, if you prefer. The male outfit consists of a half-vest, blue briefs, a gold sash, and sandals."

The First Officer and Doctor looked at each other, stunned, then back at Kirk.

"I don't blame either of you for not finding the prospect inviting, but it's either this or we forfeit the mining rights to the Klingons...and I don't think I need to spell out what that would mean, both for us and the inhabitants. I wouldn't even attempt it if it wasn't for the fact that dilithium-II is a special kind which lasts twice as long, is half again as powerful and durable as ordinary dilithium, but only used half as fast. Sapphira VII is the only planet in the Sytharan system which is both class M and has the mineral in abundance, along with pergium.

"Their customs regarding relations between a male slave and his mistress are very explicit. He must obey her every command, whatever it may be. This will include public displays of subservience and physical contact, the more, the better. There are no doors as such; they use curtains as doors. They do respect one another's privacy and the right of ownership, but are not above asking to trade one another's slaves, if only temporarily, like for an hour or so."

The Vulcan never said a word, but his face seemed to get paler by the moment. Mindful of his every move and reaction, Christine couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Kirk was equally mindful, and because of his friend's reaction, decided to go to Sapphira VII himself. He would be better able to endure the hedonistic Sapphiran society.

"Which is why I've decided to go myself," the Captain announced, quietly but firmly.

Spock's head jerked up; Kirk saw a mixture of fear and concern in his alien friend's dark eyes at the prospect of his Human friend enduring such an ordeal...but the Captain was certain that Spock would prefer to oversee the Antos IV mission.

"For one thing, I could endure their culture better than you could. And I'd certainly feel better giving you command of the Antos IV mission. I know you aren't fond of being in command, but you'd be even less fond of the idea of going around in a skimpy outfit and being ogled by women."

The Vulcan knew Kirk was right, but still disliked the idea of Jim's going on the Sapphiran mission. Surely there were other high-ranking male officers aboard who were qualified to go, which would mean that neither of them would have to go—but how many men were compatible with Christine?

"Nevertheless, I find your logic questionable at best," Spock insisted. 

Kirk assured his First Officer and friend that he would take care of himself and look after Christine, then threw back, "What do you expect me to do, then, if neither of us go...send Bones? Other than us and Scotty, he's the ranking male officer aboard ship—and I'm not comfortable with the idea of having both my Medical Officers off the ship at the same time."

"He would be compatible with Christine," Spock pointed out.

"But he wouldn't enjoy running around in a skimpy outfit any more than we would," Kirk sighed. "And now, you've got me between the proverbial rock and a hard place."

Ordinarily the ship stayed for the duration of a given mission, but this time, there was a time limit. The drugs Antos IV required were perishable; three days was the longest they could sit around without being used—and it would take that long to get to the planet (and back). The planetside party would be on their own for at least a week, and that was provided all went well. How often did that happen?

"I still believe it best that someone other than you be chosen," the First Officer argued.

"Who would you suggest, then? If the Sapphirans hadn't specifically requested no officers below the rank of Lieutenant Commander, I'd ask Sulu or Chekov."

Spock sighed deeply, then a long, awkward silence ensued between the three in the Briefing Room before the Vulcan spoke again. "In that case, I will go."

Kirk and Christine seemed momentarily stunned; it was the Captain who found his voice first. "No. I can't let you." Kirk's eyes met those of his Vulcan friend, and the former knew Spock meant what he said...but so did he.

"I would sooner go myself than leave you there," came the quiet but stubborn rejoinder.

"You know what it involves," Kirk reminded him. "It would be difficult for a Human, much less a Vulcan."

"I am prepared to take the risk," Spock threw back.

"You may be, but I'm not. You're still trying to put your head back together after V'Ger and Kolinahr. I don't want to see you go through another trauma if it can be avoided. Even Vulcans can only endure so much."

"Christine will be there," was the answer.

"And going through her own traumas," Kirk finished. "No, Spock. I want you on the Antos mission. Let me handle the Sapphirans."

"Jim..." The tone of the Vulcan's voice effectively silenced Kirk. When Spock spoke like that, nothing—but nothing—could change his mind.

The Captain sighed. "Very well, Spock, but don't say I didn't warn you."

The Vulcan's dark eyes softened as he gazed upon his closest friend. "Your concern is appreciated, Jim, but I am as aware of the difficulty involved in undertaking such a mission as you are. Even going to Sapphira VII myself would be less difficult than wondering what is happening to you while the ship is gone...and what you may be enduring. As I said, I will not be alone. Christine will do all she can to help me."

Spock gave the female Doctor a meaningful look; Christine merely nodded in his direction, still unable to speak.

"Keep in mind that it'll be at least a week before we can return, since there is no other ship in the sector close enough to undertake the Antos mission."

Spock nodded in response as Kirk's eyes met his again. "Be careful, Spock. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you." The Captain's gaze moved to rest on Christine. "Take care of him," Kirk entreated.

"I'll do my best," she assured him, knowing she would do all she could to make it easier for the Vulcan, but it wouldn't be easy for her, either, particularly if one or more of the native women happened to covet Spock and make an offer for him. She had an idea as to how to spare him that, but it remained to be seen whether or not it would work. He was such a private person, as was she.

They would need all their strength, both physical and emotional, to get through the next week that the _Enterprise_ would be gone, off on another mission to deliver medical supplies to one of the Federation member planets. Sulu would temporarily take on the duties of First Officer, and Chekov would cover for Spock at the Science station. Christine's immediate subordinate, Elizabeth Rogers, would cover for her.

The couple had been seeing each other socially—albeit discreetly—over the past several weeks, since the end of the V'Ger mission, and had been growing steadily closer, but to date there had been no physical intimacy between them other than an occasional hug, or his kissing her hands. For this reason, Christine didn't think Spock was ready for what the upcoming mission would surely involve, despite his brave front.

In Starfleet, one couldn't always pick and choose the missions they were to go on. If one was needed and qualified to go, they went, whatever their reservations...though there were sometimes extenuating circumstances. Even at that, Spock knew that he would sooner see himself on the Sapphiran mission than Jim. If only for that reason, it was his duty to face it like the Vulcan he was, however difficult it turned out to be.

Kirk looked at the chrono set into the table at his seat next to the command buttons and stated, "You two had better get changed, then beam down. The Sapphirans are sticklers for punctuality, too. The Transporter Chief has the coordinates of where you're to go. Contact me once you've arrived planetside, and I'll put you in touch with the aide to Sapphira, the Head Female. It's best if you do the talking, Doctor. The women of Sapphira VII do not speak to men unless they have a female companion."

_How's that for being full of yourself?_Christine thought._The leader even re-names the planet after herself!_

The planet had originally been named Sythara VII, but the current leader, Sapphira, had changed the name when she came to power fifteen years earlier. But this was not the time for personal opinions. They'd have enough problems without antagonizing the natives.

"Good luck, Spock." Kirk met the eyes of his First Officer and closest friend, still wishing they could have switched places. The Human would have been better able to endure the hedonistic Sapphirans than Spock, but since the Vulcan had insisted on going in Kirk's stead, all of them would have to make the best of a bad situation.

"Thank you, Captain."

---------------------------

"My Lady, are you ready for the visit of the Federation ship?" Setara, long-time aide to Sapphira, ruler of planet Sapphira VII, asked her superior as she entered the latter's office to bring her the latest word from the Federation Council.

"Of course I am," came the curt reply. "It's my job to be ready."

"I am told that the _Enterprise_ is the best ship in the Federation fleet, and that they will be sending one of their top female officers to speak with us."

Sapphira's face was expressionless. "What of it?"

"The latest word is that they will also be sending one of their top male officers with her." Setara held out the paper in her hand; Sapphira took it from her and rapidly scanned it.

"That's perfectly legal, Setara—but we will do our business with the female. They know what we expect of them; native clothing has even been provided for them."

Setara went on. "The report also says that the _Enterprise_ Captain, James Kirk, and his First Officer, Spock—he is Vulcan, I understand—have become legends in the time they have served on the ship. Kirk is considered something of a maverick, because he believes it best to go on landing parties himself, usually taking his First Officer and Chief Medical Officer with him. Which one do you think will be sent with the female?"

Sapphira shrugged. "It makes no difference to me. Any one of them has sufficient rank."

**And they wouldn't dare not,** Setara mused with an inward smile. Sapphira expected nothing less than perfection from her closest aides and advisors—which, like her, were all female. Setara was the top advisor, because she had been in Sapphira's service the longest. Setara feared and disliked her superior, but they needed each other (the former for the money it brought her, the latter for the former's expertise) and for that reason, they lived under an uneasy truce.

"I am also told that Kirk and his male command crew are all quite attractive," Setara remarked. "It is likely that any one of them would be pleasing to you, should you decide to exchange your slave Pietro with him temporarily while the Federation officers are here."

"Perhaps I will. Perhaps I won't," Sapphira replied, her eyes a blaze of green. "That is for me to determine, not you."

"Of course, My Lady," Setara returned mildly."I was simply speculating."

"Leave the speculating to me and just do your job. Set up the apartment they will use, in a royal blue and gold color scheme. By the way, you will accompany me on their first night when we observe them, since we are to treat them like ordinary newcomers."

"Yes, My Lady." Setara was hard-put to conceal her dislike of Sapphira and distaste at the thought of invading the others' privacy. She wished she could get out of it, even delegate it to one of her minor staff, but as the senior advisor, it fell to her to accompany her superior.

At that moment, a beeping came from the intercom on Sapphira's desk. She reached to open it. "Yes, what is it?"

The voice of Setara's secretary came back. "My Lady, there has been another communication from the _Enterprise_. They said for us to expect them by this time tomorrow."

Sapphira glanced at her desk chrono; it said three p.m. "Very well." She closed the intercom and returned her attention to Setara. "You heard that?"

"Yes, My Lady."

"Then get busy. I expect all to be in readiness before the _Enterprise_ arrives."

"It will be, My Lady."

"Dismissed."

Setara bowed respectfully in her superior's direction, even though she felt none, and departed. Once the other woman had gone, Sapphira pressed another button on her desk to speak to her own secretary. Without preamble, she said, "Have Pietro sent in to me immediately. I wish to speak to him," and closed the line without waiting for an answer. All her staff were trained to know what to do without her having to spell it out for them, as well as the fact that her slightest word was to be considered a command...and to know what happened to anyone who defied her.

There had only been one such incident in her fifteen-year tenure as leader, which had resulted in a prison sentence, beating, starvation, and emasculation for the obstinate _grafek_ of a slave who had denied her desire. Who was he to refuse her, Sapphira, ruler of this entire planet? He should have been honored that she would favor him with her attention!

She had wanted to make him her favorite, but he had refused her, saying that he was in love with another. One thing was for certain—since he didn't want her, he didn't deserve any woman...and once the recalcitrant slave had recovered enough to travel, she had had him sent to a far province under an assumed name. Once word got around of his experiences, she was pleased to note that subsequent slaves were far more cooperative.

She had had eight other favorite slaves, none of whom lasted more than a year and a half. One had only lasted six months. Not because he no longer pleased her, but because he had fallen in love with her. Love meant commitment to one man, and there was too much of her life yet to be lived to tie herself down. All the same, Alain had been a marvelous lover, and she would never forget him.

It wasn't until she had found and bought Pietro on Argelius II that a slave lasted longer. Only he came close to equaling Alain's bedroom prowess. Still, it would be interesting to see which of the male Federation officers would be the one to accompany the female officer. Perhaps she would do as Setara suggested after all...provided the man caught her fancy.

--------------------

The _Enterprise_ couple separated into their respective quarters to change before beamdown. Christine opened her bag to discover at least a dozen sets of native clothing, each consisting of a brief, gold bandeau with a sheer, royal blue over-vest, gold underpanties and transparent harem pants, along with royal blue and gold slippers and earrings.

She put her hair up in the native style, feeling all but naked in the brief outfit. Below the bandeau, which barely covered her breasts, her body was bare down to her hips. The panties were little more than a G-string. If her costume could be this skimpy, Spock's must be even more so.

The only Starfleet-issue items she had were her medikit and communicator, along with her toilet articles like shampoo, makeup, a comb, her favorite perfume and antiperspirant. After putting on her duty uniform again over the costume, she left her quarters to see how Spock was doing. A short time later, she pressed his buzzer and called to him.

"Come," was the almost too-quiet reply. Upon stepping inside, she looked around for Spock, but didn't see him anywhere.

"Spock?" she called again.

"Christine?" came the faint answer.

"Spock, are you all right?"

"Please come here," he said.

She headed for the sleeping alcove, stopping short of the doorway. "Spock?" she called yet again.

He didn't answer, so she cautiously peeked around the corner. He stood there with his head bowed, wearing a half-vest embroidered in gold and royal blue with gold trim around the neckline, armholes and bottom. A shiny gold sash circled his slender hips, holding up a royal blue pair of bikini briefs resembling swim trunks. Gold sandals were on his feet.

If she was embarrassed at her own clothing—what little there was of it—she could well imagine the agonies Spock must be going through. He looked wonderful, but she knew he must be ready to die. She was sure he wore more than this in undergarments...and they were expected to go out in public like this, where others could see them. How could they ever do it?

What she could see of his face and ears were an emerald green, complementing her own crimson cheeks. He was unable to speak or look her in the eye. She couldn't blame him; she couldn't have met his, either—and knew she had to apologize for the ordeal facing him.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this, Spock, I truly am. I'll try not to make too many demands on you." Her voice was tender and laced with regret.

The Vulcan's color lessened, though he still couldn't meet her eyes. "I do not...blame you, Christine. If I must do it, I am—glad it is for you, and shall...fulfill my duties to the best of my ability. Now it is best that we—contact the Captain and get on with our mission."

"May I suggest you put on your uniform first?"

His color deepened again, then he managed to meet her eyes briefly and give her a half-smile. "I will be ready shortly."

The Vulcan picked up his uniform and began to dress; he joined her ten minutes later, and they left his quarters together, each carrying their travel bag. They called Kirk upon beaming down and changing back into the native costumes, then sat in the outer waiting room of the Sapphiran leader, both embarrassed beyond their ability to speak.

A feminine voice brought their heads up. "Princess?"

"Yes?" Christine made her voice as regal (and calm) as possible.

"May we come in?"

"You may."

A tall, beautiful woman dressed in purple and gold with flaming-red hair stood before them. Her outfit was identical to Christine's in every way but color. Her own male slave, a tall, dark, handsome Italian, stood beside her, attired like Spock. The colors of his outfit were a match to his mistress's own, as Christine realized hers and Spock's were—obviously denoting ownership. The Vulcan sat at Christine's feet, his head resting against her legs and bowed, his face hidden. She laid a soothing hand on his silky hair; her other hand rested on his back, on the half-vest, just below the nape of his neck.

"I am Sapphira, Head Female, and this is my favorite slave, Pietro," the other woman said.

"I am Christine, acting as Princess of the Seventh Province, and this is Spock, acting as my favorite slave," the female Doctor replied.

"He seems quite...shy. How long have you owned him?"

"Six months, My Lady, but he became my favorite only recently."

"He does not look—Human."

Sapphira observed Spock's slender, barely covered body with a mixture of curiosity and lust. How handsome it was, and what a lover he must be! She envied the lucky woman who owned such an attractive non-Human slave. (She had been unable to help noticing one perfectly-shaped, pointed ear and the greenish-gold Vulcan skin tone.)

"He is a hybrid, My Lady." Christine hoped that would satisfy her visitor's curiosity. Spock was going to have his privacy invaded enough without this woman demanding his life history and family background.

"I see. Pietro is the same, but outwardly Humanoid. Your slave seems to favor his alien half. May I ask if his other half is Human?"

"His mother is Human." Christine couldn't help thinking that Sapphira seemed entirely too inquisitive, and she had naturally noticed the interested looks the other woman gave Spock. Perhaps she had best put her idea into action, nip this in the bud before things got out of hand.

There was no guarantee she would be believed, but it was a chance she had to take. _Forgive me, my love, _she apologized silently. "I have discovered that he is only able to join with his own kind and my own. He is...impotent with any other."

"Is he a—satisfactory lover for you?"

"Yes," Christine made herself say. "But as I have said, My Lady, he can only join with his own kind or mine." Christine forced regret into her voice, praying she would be believed and that Spock would not be harassed by any of the other women. It was all she could do for him.

"What if I told you that I myself was Human?" Sapphira gave her a meaningful look.

Not that Christine could blame her, but the woman was positively brazen, especially considering the fact that her own male slave was standing nearby, taking in all this. Now she was even kneeling down to speak to Spock himself!

"Spock, I would ask you a question." Her voice was soft, but firm.

Spock forced his head up. "Yes, My Lady?" He gathered strength from Christine's hand on his head.

"Are you content with your mistress?"

The Vulcan made himself answer. "She has treated me well. I have no desire for another mistress."

"What if I were to offer for you?"

"My Lady..." His voice was barely audible, and his cheeks held a tinge of green. Sapphira looked up at Christine, demanding with her eyes that the other woman make her slave answer her question.

Christine forced herself to say, "Answer her, Spock."

"I—would comply," he told her. "With my mistress's permission...and if it is—temporary."

Christine was sure that only her touch was giving Spock the strength to speak, truly hoping that no offer would be made for him. At least not any time soon, and especially not by Sapphira.

"Have no fear, newcomer. There is no need for you to concern yourself with the desires of anyone but your mistress." Sapphira stood up again and faced Christine. "At least not for the present. However, we do insist that the male slave show his mistress the proper respect and attention. I trust you have instructed Spock toward that end."

"I have, My Lady." Christine was unable to suppress an inward sigh of relief. Spock was safe, at least for now.

"Now it is time to meet the other women and their slaves." Sapphira turned toward the curtain which served as a door, Pietro at her elbow to draw it aside for her. "Lady Christine?"

"It's time, Spock. Get up and do your duty." The harsh words were softened by her loving manner.

Spock reluctantly released her legs and got to his feet. Christine was glad to see that his color was almost normal, though he would look at no one but her...and even then, only at her face. This should meet with the Sapphirans' approval, if only for a little while—but she had no idea when Spock would be called upon to show her physical attention, tactile indications of his loyalty to and love for his 'mistress'.

"Yes, mistress."

Christine was proud of him, standing so straight and tall, dignified in spite of his all-but-naked body. Clothed in dignity, if nothing else, she thought tenderly as she stepped through the door and he drew the curtain aside for her. She was thankful to learn that Sapphira VII had a warm climate, the Sapphiran (formerly Sytharan) sun being a blue-white giant and thus very similar to those of both Eridani, Vulcan's sun, and Rigel, a quadruple star system with thirteen planets, six of which were class M and inhabited.

Even at that, the rooms had to be heated at night, like the homes on Vulcan. So far, however, Sapphira VII had been the only class M planet found in this newly discovered system with any substantial amount of the needed dilithium-II and pergium having been detected there. It was one of eleven planets, reminiscent of the Talos system.

Sapphira and Pietro stood outside in the outer hall, waiting. They began walking as soon as Christine and Spock joined them. The _Enterprise_ couple could do nothing but follow, choosing not to think of what lay ahead and what they might have to do...but instead, of how to make the next two weeks pass as painlessly as possible for them both.

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Planet Sapphira VII had been a democracy for the entire four centuries of its civilization's existence, and the people benevolent and peaceful, having had no war in its history up to the present...but all that changed when its present leader, Sapphira, came to power a decade and a half before. She changed the laws to suit herself, and once she was finished, the government was an absolute monarchy, one step away from a dictatorship.

The reins of power had passed from generation to generation via succession, with Sapphira inheriting the leadership from her mother upon the latter's death after a forty-year reign.  
However, Seleenah, mother of Sapphira, was as well-loved as Sapphira was feared and hated. Seleenah had ruled with an iron hand, but in a velvet glove, being tough but fair; Sapphira was just as likely to throw someone in prison, beat or starve them if they displeased or defied her. As a result, the majority of the people were kept in line through fear and intimidation.

Others disliked her for her cruelty that bordered on sadism as well as her insufferable arrogance, particularly the oldest of the women who had served under her mother—but even they kept their feelings to themselves, knowing it would do no good to say anything. They could not have survived prison, beatings or starvation, so they left for other provinces when they could no longer abide the cruelty. It was easier to endure if they didn't have to see it going on.

There was one large continent where Sapphira VII's population of six million lived; the land mass was divided into a dozen provinces, eleven of which had its own leader, referred to as "Princess". The provinces were known by numbers, the smallest being the one with the highest number. Half the population was in the First Province, considered the planetary capital.

Sapphira lived here with her staff and their male slaves in the largest, most well-equipped living complex in the entire First Province. The rest of the population was divided between the other eleven provinces, with roughly three hundred thousand living in each and all the Princesses having their own staffs, with personal apartments and male slaves for all the women, each with their personal colors to designate ownership of individual slaves/consorts.

The First Province boasted the lion's share of the planet's considerable resources, including cooks, tailors, sculptors, artists of every kind...many of whom were noted for their skill at creating immortal beauty with seemingly no effort at all.

Christine was acting as the Princess of the Seventh Province, half a continent away from the First Province, sufficiently small and obscure enough so that her sudden appearance would not be questioned—nor would Spock, as her favorite slave.

**two**

After the ordeal of introductions was behind them, it was time for lunch. Spock exchanged a concerned look with Christine when he was expected to join the other men. He was leery of being out of her sight because of Sapphira's expressed desire for him, so he was thankful to learn that only the slaves went into the kitchen. They were to prepare and serve the midday meal to their mistresses. Spock was not a cook, so he told himself to follow the others' example. It turned out that Pietro was the best, most experienced cook. The other man took the shy newcomer under his large wing and guided him along...and not only on the kitchen duty.

Who could have imagined that Spock would find an ally in Sapphira's own slave? Careful questioning brought the Vulcan useful, if disturbing, information. He would have to tell Christine what he had learned. Meanwhile, he had a duty to perform—but this one wasn't so bad. Here, he was not put on display before lascivious eyes, made to parade around all but naked and perform on command whatever Christine, his 'mistress', required of him. To her credit, she made it as easy as possible on him, but he was sure that it was only a matter of time before his true ordeal began. What would he be in for then? That was something Spock didn't care to think about.

How could he be sure that power wouldn't go to her head? After all, this was surely what she had always dreamed of—his jumping when she called and doing anything and everything she wanted, including walking around in an indecently revealing outfit...if it could be called that. He was fair game for any Sapphiran woman who wished to ogle him. The only consolation was that Pietro and the other men were, as well.

The men gathered vegetables for the salad and began to chop, dice and slice, then Pietro spoke when Spock least expected it. "You are the man from the Federation ship?"

"Yes. I am the First Officer."

"A Vulcan?"

"Correct."

"Then this hedonistic society must be very difficult for you to endure, being so logical...and modest."

Pietro used knowledge gleaned from friends who lived in the Earth colony from where the majority of Sapphiran food was imported. One of them was in Starfleet, and had met several Vulcans in the course of his work. Pietro figured it best to treat Spock no differently, even though he was half-Human, since the latter's Vulcan half seemed dominant.

"My...companion has made it easier, and I—am grateful to her for that."

"What position does she hold on the ship?" the other man asked, since the earlier introductions had been so rapid that he had been unable to learn more about the newcomers than their names and the fact that they had come from the _Enterprise_.

"The Assistant Chief Medical Officer."

"What is she to you?"

"That is not your concern," the Vulcan returned stiffly, voice tightly controlled.

"But I have seen the way she looks at you—the softness in her eyes, the tenderness in her voice. That would seem to indicate that she is in love with you."

Spock nodded. "For some time." 

The Vulcan fell silent after that, simply busying himself with the chopping of the salad vegetables, some of which had been imported from the Earth colony, because Sapphira and her people were of Human stock. Pietro mirrored Spock's actions before putting the vegetables into the large bowl sitting on the table near them and mixing them together.

Spock was grateful for the apron which covered his lower half so he didn't feel so exposed. The Vulcan also hoped he would be able to get a good-sized serving of the salad, though it was likely that the men would have to wait for the women to finish eating—either that, or take turns so that no one slave would be away from his mistress longer than necessary.

When they took the food to the dining area, Spock felt relief in spite of his embarrassment upon seeing Christine's reassuring smile...but judging by the actions of the other men, he was expected to feed her, though he assumed she would drink for herself. He was also glad to see that the beverage preference was non-alcoholic—fruit juices and such—at least for this meal. What it might be like for the evening meal was something he didn't care to contemplate.

The Vulcan was too busy to notice the other women giving him the eye, particularly Sapphira, even while Pietro fed her. Other slaves had prepared and cooked the meat, the Sapphiran equivalent of top sirloin. Spock forced back nausea as he fed Christine, bite by bite...but the hollow tube known as the "straw" was in evidence here (another import from the Earth colony),so all he had to do when she wished to drink was hold the glass. He noticed the regret in her eyes at being able to eat while he could only watch.

Even with his Vulcan metabolism, Christine knew Spock had to be hungry by now, even if he denied it. But he never complained all through the long meal, and she was pleased to see that he was able to eat once he had fed her.1Christine disliked having Spock away from her, even for the length of time he had been the kitchen—mainly because she could not protect him. Ordinarily he could take care of himself, but on Sapphira VII, he needed protection from predatory women. Starfleet women at least had some scruples and self-control; here, there was none.

Without her to watch out for him, the Vulcan's trusting nature could make him easy prey for any unscrupulous woman who chose to take advantage. Christine was especially wary of Sapphira. The woman hadn't tried anything (yet), but Christine was convinced that she would, the first chance she got. For that reason, the Doctor-turned-Sapphiran Princess vowed to keep a sharp eye on the "Head Female".

------------------

Setara had been Sapphira's aide for five years. There had been others, but they had defied her and were dealt with accordingly. It was Setara that Sapphira found herself trusting—that is, as far as her paranoid nature would allow—but that trust had come at a heavy price. So heavy, in fact, that Setara's slave/consort, Henri, advised her to quit her job as aide. After all, it was only part-time. Her job at the radio/satellite station was full-time and far more rewarding, as well as enjoyable. There, she could express her views anonymously (and best of all, planetwide) without worrying too much that Sapphira would find out and punish her as well.

She thanked Henri for his concern, but refused, assuring him that she could handle Sapphira and knew how to keep her mouth shut. Even though she saw...and heard...a lot, she said nothing, simply filing the incriminating information away for future reference, keeping it well-hidden and in a safe place. Sapphira would pay for her cruelty very soon, now that the _Enterprise_ was on its way, and Sapphira VII could go back to the paradise it once was.

----------------

Setara hadn't been surprised to learn that there was a grass-roots organization whose goal it was to eventually depose Sapphira and return the planet to its former democratic government. Once her feelings had been made known to them, she had been approached to work for that same organization in between her two jobs. So far she had been able to juggle the three, but was fast reaching the end of her rope.

Sapphira didn't realize it, but having had Setara contact the Federation had been akin to signing her own death warrant...or at least the death warrant for her sadistic, dictatorial regime. Every bit of information Setara gathered and gave to her colleagues at the CRSD (Citizens to Return Sapphira VII to Democracy) brought Sapphira's downfall that much closer.

The aide's job was a chore for her, especially now, but Setara had come too far in her plans to depose Sapphira and end her tyranny to stop now. Still, timing was crucial. If even one link in the chain was broken, or if one person did not play their part as expected and instructed, all their efforts could be for naught and all of them executed (or at least imprisoned for life) for treason. That wouldn't happen if she had anything to say about it, however. Not even if she had to take all the consequences of the committee's actions onto herself.

----------------

While he and the other men cleaned up after the meal, Spock questioned Pietro further. One thing Spock was certain of (if he could be certain of anything) was that his mental shields would be tested to their limits, and possibly beyond. He also noted that while some of the men occupied themselves with thoughts of physical love with their mistresses, Sapphira's man seemed almost as controlled as himself. It seemed that Pietro's temperament was more like that of his Argelian mother than his Italian father. About halfway through the cleanup process, Pietro turned his head toward Spock.

"My mistress desires you greatly, Spock. She will go to any lengths to have you, even if only for an hour."

"Does that not distress you? You are supposed to be her favorite." Spock put several large plates into the sink before him which held hot, soapy water, and began to wash them.

Pietro sighed and shrugged. "She has had many favorites, Spock. I am merely her current one...and she would like very much to make you another. Other women have looked upon you as she has, but dare not approach your mistress for fear of Sapphira's wrath. She does not take kindly to interference by another once she has set her sights on a given man." He mirrored Spock's actions in the adjoining sink.

"Have you not desired other women besides Sapphira?" Spock asked. The Vulcan didn't usually ask such personal questions of those he did not know well, but identified with Pietro because he was also half-Human, and because Argelians were as gentle as (if not as logical and emotionally controlled as) Vulcans.

"Of course. Your mistress is one of them—but they must offer for me. I cannot approach them myself...and even then, there is no guarantee that Sapphira would allow it, in spite of her desire for you."

Spock didn't like to think of what that could mean. "My—mistress would not allow it," he replied. "And neither do I desire it."

"You may not have a choice," Pietro informed him. "My Lady Sapphira rules this planet. All bend to her wish and will if they know what's good for them."

Spock frowned. "What do you mean?"

Pietro explained in graphic detail. Spock felt a chill run through him. It was obvious that it would not go well for him to refuse Sapphira's attentions, and he was uncertain as to whether or not Christine could do anything to help him. The Vulcan was reminded of the old Terran saying, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." If he refused Sapphira, he was likely to discover the meaning of those words firsthand...but how could he possibly give in? It was a real dilemma, the no-win situation to end all no-win situations.

While on the planet, they were subject to Sapphiran law, even if that law heavily favored the whims of the planetary leader—the beginning of a dictatorship, something which could prove dangerous for not only himself but Christine and the Federation, if allowed to spread. It was their duty to stay alive in order to warn Jim.

-------------------

That evening after dinner, the couple was shown to what would be their own private apartment for the duration of the mission...again, all decorated in royal blue and gold to designate ownership. Christine had also learned that all newcomers were to be observed their first night together as proof of their sincerity, but saw no need to distress Spock by telling him. He was going to have a difficult enough time as it was. She could only hope that the observers would be discreet; otherwise, sensitive Vulcan ears would surely detect them.

She yawned and stretched upon stepping into what would serve as the living room. "I'm tired, Spock. What time would you say it is?"

"Approximately 2200 hours, ship's time."

"A good time to go to bed." She sighed as she turned for the bedroom. "I'm glad we managed to make it through one day, at least."

"Agreed," Spock concurred as he followed her. "But we still have thirteen to go."

Another ordeal began for the Vulcan once he stepped into the plush bedroom—but at least this one was bearable. Christine hated to ask it of him, but if anyone was watching, they had to make it look good. 1"Please help me undress, Spock."

He stepped up to her and proceeded to undress her, fighting to keep only part of his mind on what his hands were doing, but it wasn't easy because of her nearness. While the act was going on, Christine hoped that it was driving Sapphira crazy if she was the one watching and listening.

In the back of her mind, she couldn't help thinking that it was the perfect _piece de resistance_. She hoped that witch-woman tortured herself beyond endurance. It would suit her just fine if Sapphira thought it real, even though it wasn't. Meanwhile, let her climb the wall wondering.

------------------

Spock was alone in the soft, plush bed when he awakened on the morning of the second day. He discovered this fact when he reached for his companion, only to find her gone. At almost the same time, he heard the sound of splashing in the nearby bathroom and got up to investigate.

"Christine?" he called to her.

"In here, Spock," she called back. "Do you need to shower?"

"Not at the moment. I can wait until you finish."

There was silence for a time, then she spoke again. "Will you comb out my hair for me when it's dry?"

"Very well."

He heard her step out of the tub, then call to him again. "I don't suppose it would do any good to ask you to come in and dry me off," she teased.

"You suppose correctly."

It would take time for them both to put the mission here behind them, even if nothing happened. In the meantime, however, it was necessary to get through the next...twelve days now, if memory served. And there was something else he had to tell Christine.

"I am not a hairdresser. You will have to do your own hair."

"No problem, Spock—but once we step outside this apartment, it's mistress and slave again."

She appeared in the bathroom doorway with one large towel wrapped around her and another around her head, turban-style, just as Spock got out of bed and approached the bathroom. His unspoken question was answered before he asked it.

"Don't worry. There's another towel on the rack for you," she told him as he reached her.

The Vulcan raised a quizzical eyebrow at her before giving a half-smile in her direction and closing the bathroom door behind him. Christine could hardly wait to learn how convincing their act had been, having no doubt that Sapphira would tell her even as she threw off the towel wrapped around her and donned fresh clothes.

Spock came out of the bathroom a short time later, the third towel wrapped around him and well tucked in at the waist, hair damp but combed. The Vulcan had taken but one step out when he froze in his tracks. Christine was standing in front of the full-length mirror, her back to him, though he focused on her reflection. He hadn't really looked at her until now, having been too embarrassed, and the vision he saw nearly made his heart stop. Spock could not have imagined that anything so lovely could be real. Not even her duty uniform could have hinted at the beauty of the body beneath it.

In the next moment, he forced the thought aside and made himself retrieve his travel bag in order to don another equally indecent slave outfit. After dressing, he noted that Christine had dried her hair and was waiting for him at the vanity, comb in hand.

"Spock, are you ready yet?" she asked.

"I am coming," he replied, reaching her side seconds later.

She gave him the comb; he stepped behind her to begin his task. Despite his best efforts, Spock touched the nape of her neck and right shoulder once, not only making her shiver but electricity shoot through his own body. "There you are." He finished up and returned the comb to her before retreating to the foot of the bed to watch her style her hair.

"Spock, what time is it?" she asked when she was about halfway done with her hair.

"Approximately 0700, ship's time."

"About time for breakfast," Christine observed as she completed her hairstyle, then did a quick makeup/perfume job. She stood up a few minutes later and the two left their apartment to begin another day.

Spock excused himself upon seeing Pietro a short distance ahead, quickening his pace in order to join his new-found ally. Christine smiled affectionately at his retreating back before entering the auditorium-like room where the rest of the women were gathered—the main dining room, called the Women's Pavilion. The only available seat was one on Sapphira's left. The look the other woman gave her promised trouble and Christine wasn't sure she wanted to know what kind. She tried not to put on a superior air, but it was beyond her control.

"Lady Christine, is it truly necessary to flaunt your slave's prowess before all of us?"

Christine smiled sweetly even as she inwardly gloated. "I'm sorry if it bothers you, Sapphira, but it's not something I can control."

Sapphira's eyes were a blaze of green as she thought of the almost unbearable torture she had endured observing Spock and his mistress last night. The _raphix _(bitch) had done it on purpose, knowing she was watching, well aware of how much she desired the alien hybrid slave! This so-called "Princess" would pay for what she'd done...and pay dearly, if it was the last thing Sapphira ever did. No one treated her like that and lived to tell about it!

---------------------

Christine was pleased beyond words to learn that the "act" had been sufficiently convincing. Sapphira must be ready to chew neutronium by now—or at least offer the most generous trade agreement for Spock that anyone ever had: an agreement that Sapphira surely intended for her to be unable to refuse if she knew what was good for her. _Well, just watch me, _she thought wickedly. _Spock is not for sale at any price!_ But she hadn't reckoned on the proposition he would make to her that evening when they were back in their quarters.

Christine was still gloating when she and Spock returned to their apartment. Sapphira had looked as though she could have cheerfully strangled her! Of course, it would be foolhardy to push her too far. They were here for a job, not a competition.

Spock's sharp eyes couldn't help but notice. "What is so amusing?"

"I just put one over on Sapphira," his companion replied, unable to help smirking.

Spock raised a scandalized eyebrow at her wicked pleasure, then sighed deeply and announced, "I now wish to make a suggestion which I believe will solve the problem of Sapphira."

"Which is?" Christine asked apprehensively, knowing Spock's limited experience with women...and also knowing that, instead of solving the problem of Sapphira, would aggravate it—but she knew how stubborn Spock was once he had made up his mind, so she saw little point in arguing with him.

"Offer for Pietro, her slave."

Christine couldn't believe her ears. "What?"

Spock went on as if she hadn't spoken. "He is very much attracted to you. He told me this himself—but he cannot approach you. You must offer for him. In this manner, Sapphira can also offer for me and perhaps get me 'out of her system,' as it were."

"And perhaps not," came the retort.

"Are you not...attracted to Pietro?" the Vulcan shot back.

"That's not the point," Christine snapped. "What is, is that you're inexperienced with women. Sapphira is a Human barracuda, the kind of woman who chews up a man and spits him out. If I let her offer for you, there's no telling what condition you'd be in when I got you back—_if _I got you back. I would be, in effect, throwing you to the wolves. Do you really want that?"

"Can you think of a better solution?" Spock countered.

She glared at him, knowing his "solution" was no solution at all, but unable to dissuade him. "No," she reluctantly admitted. "Very well. I'll offer for Pietro and let Sapphira offer for you. How long do you think you can handle being with her?"

"From dawn until the dinner hour beginning three days from now," was the reply.

Christine shook her head. "Wow! You're certainly a glutton for punishment...but if that's what you want—" Her voice broke off. She hated the idea of Spock going to Sapphira, but was grateful that he had given her time to get used to it.

Spock's eyes seemed to stab through her like twin daggers. "It is not what I 'want', Christine. It is what I must do."

She gave him an icy look. "Spock, there's a name for what you plan to do. It's called prostitution."

He was unmoved. "I will do what I must for the Captain."

"I can't let you do it. Not even the Captain would expect you to go to such lengths in order to accomplish our mission."

The Vulcan's face hardened further. "There is no other logical course of action open to me."

Christine sighed in resignation. "Then all I can say is: be careful. You know what Sapphira is capable of."

"Do not worry, Christine. I will be all right." His eyes softened as he sensed her concern.

She returned her whole heart in her eyes. "I hope so. I could never forgive myself, or ever face the Captain again, if anything happened to you."

This time, Spock gave her a real smile and touched her cheek. "Nothing will happen that I cannot handle. Trust me."

Christine covered his hand with hers and returned the smile. "I trust you, Spock. It's Sapphira I don't trust."


	2. Chapter 3 & 4

**three**

The last thing either Spock or Christine wanted was for the mining rights on Sapphira VII to hinge on whether or not he gave in to the planetary leader, but neither had been able to come up with any feasible alternatives, so they had to go along with Spock's original plan.

It wasn't something they were looking forward to, but they had had to do many unpleasant things in the course of their work. This would be particularly unpleasant for Spock, at least in one sense, and for Christine in another. Neither believed in casual sex. Rather, they believed it should only be with someone one loved—and preferably was married to (and in the Vulcan's case, bonded with). She would be hard-pressed to enjoy her time with Pietro, knowing Spock was in Sapphira's clutches.

-------------------

They rose early the morning of the third day, around 0600, and did the usual things, showered, dressed, and groomed. Upon finishing up, they simply shared the sofa and talked as they waited for 0700 to arrive, mainly about innocuous things like what to have for breakfast and such—but what made it memorable was the fact that he was holding her (and vice versa). All too soon, she sighed in disgust as she noted the time.

"It's almost time for breakfast. We'd better get moving."

Spock got up first in order to help Christine to her feet; she spoke again when they reached the door curtain.

"I still don't like the idea of the mining rights hinging on your submitting to Sapphira. I wish we could have thought of another way to accomplish the mission."

"As do I," was the reply. "But we must make the best of it."

He raised a hand to her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes as she covered his hand with hers and squeezed it. He did his utmost to convey warmth and reassurance to her through the warm velvet of his eyes, giving her strength to make it through the ordeal ahead.

-----------------

Spock headed for the kitchen upon their stepping outside the apartment. Christine watched until he disappeared through the door before joining the other women. Sapphira glared at her again, but didn't say anything. It made Christine feel better to know that while Sapphira might have Spock's body in a couple of days, she herself would have his heart and mind.

Breakfast was served half an hour later, and as Spock fed her, all was right with Christine's world because he was near her once again. She looked at Sapphira out of the corner of her eye, which made Spock follow suit, then back at him. He shook his head. They approached her upon finishing the meal.

"My Lady, I would speak with you on a matter of great importance," Christine announced.

Sapphira's eyes narrowed and her manner was wary. "And just what is this important matter?"

"You know that Spock and I are from the Federation ship _Enterprise_ and are here to discuss mining rights for your dilithium and pergium."

Sapphira's reply was cold. "I promise nothing until the two weeks are past. Is there anything else you wish to say?" Her green eyes stabbed through the two Starfleet officers.

"Yes," Christine said. "I wish to offer for Pietro."

There was a long silence before Sapphira spoke again. "Indeed? And just what makes you think I'll allow you to have him, even temporarily?"

"Because I've decided to let you offer for Spock in exchange."

The other woman thawed instantly. "Very generous of you, Lady Christine. When may I have him?"

The lascivious look in Sapphira's eyes as she gazed upon Spock turned Christine's stomach. For Heaven's sake, she was practically drooling!

"In two days' time at planet-dawn."

"For how long?"

"Until the dinner hour."

"Is that also when you wish to have Pietro?"

"Yes."

After another long silence, Sapphira summoned Pietro to her side. He had been cleaning the table behind him, his gaze locking with Spock's as the women discussed exchanging their slaves for half a day.

"Yes, mistress?"

"Lady Christine has offered for you. You will report to her apartment at planet-dawn two days from now, and remain with her until the dinner hour."

"Yes, My Lady." 

Pietro marveled that this incident was actually happening. He couldn't remember the last time Sapphira had willingly released him to another woman, even temporarily. The half-alien Spock must cast a powerful spell over women to have them speak so.

Christine knew that Spock had already made plans for two days hence, but had to make it look good in front of Sapphira. "Spock, you will report to Sapphira's apartment in two days' time at planet-dawn, and remain with her until the dinner hour."

"Yes, mistress."

"I trust you will take care of Pietro," Sapphira said.

"And I trust that _you_ will take care of Spock." Christine's voice held a bite that the other woman didn't miss. "I shall expect his safe return at the dinner hour two days from now."

"He will be returned safely," Sapphira promised. "You have my word on that."

Christine didn't trust her, but couldn't show it. "As will Pietro. You have _my_ word on that."

And so the deal was made, albeit reluctantly. Christine could imagine the things Sapphira would come up with to make Spock do for her in order to torture her as she supposedly had Sapphira the first night here. And Heaven only knew what she would subject Spock to when they were alone! Meanwhile, Christine intended to make the most of her time with Spock over the next two days before she had to relinquish him. It was an idea she disliked intensely, but something she could do nothing about. She could only hope that Pietro would be able to help her forget, if only for a little while.

----------------------

After dinner that night, she and Spock were again sitting together in each other's arms on the living room sofa. Her head was cradled on his shoulder and he rested his clasped hands on the curve of her waist. After a time, she looked up at him and smiled. It was hard to believe that anyone could have felt such happiness and contentment. How could they have waited so long to be together like this?

He sensed her feelings and observed, "Something is troubling you, Christine."

"Just thinking of how long it took us to reach this point. We have so much time to make up for."

The Vulcan could not dispute her, so he simply said, "Indeed," and left it at that. They were quiet for several moments, savoring the other's presence, before Christine spoke again.

"Spock, you said that Pietro told you what happens when a man refuses Sapphira."

He stiffened, prompting her to give him a look of mixed concern and question. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know what he told you."

"It is not pleasant," he warned.

"It's not pleasant having to let you go to her, either," Christine countered. "Tell me."

Spock sighed and began, arms tightening around her as he repeated all that Pietro had told him about Sapphira. After he answered Christine's question about whether or not the planetary leader had any children (the Vulcan answered negatively), she voiced her thankfulness that that was the case.

"Thank God. At least there won't be any more like her here. Not any time soon, anyway. Someone like that should be sterilized in the same manner as the unfortunate man who refused her."

"It would not change what happened to him," Spock pointed out. "And paradoxically, Pietro also said that her men were well treated as long as they did not disobey her."

"But God help anyone who does," Christine remarked. "Which reminds me—how long has he been her favorite?"

"Three years."

"May that be considered unusual?"

"Indeed. Pietro says that her favorites rarely last more than a year or two."

"How many has she had?"

"Ten, I believe."

"Who's lasted the longest?"

"Pietro."

"The shortest?"

"Someone named Alain, for six months."

Christine shook her head in bewilderment. "With her looks, she could have any man she wants. Why punish the one who didn't want her?"

Spock sighed. "I have no idea."

Christine raised her hand to his face and stroked his cheek, then the couple shared a brief but tender kiss. Upon separating, she told him, "I bet you're glad I'm not like that, after all the years you've kept me at a distance. I could have destroyed you for it a long time ago, if I had been."

The Vulcan gave his companion a half-smile and nodded. Around 2300, Spock noticed that the hour was late and suggested they retire. After the nightly rituals, they changed into nightclothes and got into bed. He positioned her spoon-fashion against him, arms around her from behind as he allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep-trance with his head resting on her back. Christine smiled, covered Spock's hands with hers and fell sleep herself. It was in this manner that they spent the rest of the night.

--------------------

It surprised Christine that Spock could have so easily fallen into the Sapphiran pattern of behavior after only three days...at least up to a point. But he was as attentive to her as ever, and even though she occasionally caught women giving Spock the eye, deep down she was glad that no one else had had the courage to offer for him. She had enough to worry about with Sapphira! They were switching partners this one time because there was no other way to accomplish their mission and still come out in one piece.

Spock had also told her about Pietro's background. The large man (6'4", 225 lbs. or 102 kilos), was half-Human as he was, but it was his father who had been Human...an Italian named Guillermo, and his mother an Argelian woman named Elyssea, which meant "bringer of Paradise" in her native language.

Pietro had been born and had spent most of his life on Earth. His parents and sisters had moved to Argelius after he had left home, but after his father died, he had also moved to Argelius to look after his mother and sisters until they married.1It was there that Sapphira had found him, having come to Argelius looking for a new lover, offering such a slave price for him that Pietro had been unable to refuse her—mainly because it would keep his mother and sisters in comfort for years to come. It was lucky for him that it had been so, particularly when he learned what had happened to one hapless male who had dared to refuse.

He also found that her men were well-treated as long as they did as told, which made him feel better. All the same, Pietro made a note to himself to never give her reason to be displeased with him if he could help it, lest he suffer the same fate as his unlucky comrade. For the most part, however, his temperament leaned more toward his Argelian mother than his Italian, Human father. Christine was sure he would serve her well, if only as a friend.

Physically and emotionally speaking, she didn't want anyone but Spock, but it was better to be with Pietro, occupy herself with him, rather than climb the wall wondering what Sapphira was doing with Spock—much less speculate on what she might make him do in front of her. Perhaps they could speak of each other's lives and backgrounds, make small talk about one another's family, friends and such. Until then, she had to get through the coming day.

------------------

Christine had made a point of learning all she could about Spock and his background upon realizing that she was in love with him, hoping the knowledge would be useful to her at some point. So far it hadn't been, but now that circumstances had changed, there might be a chance. She knew what a passionate people the Vulcans had once been, and that they had turned to logic and mental disciplines in order to control those passions.

Of course, there were times they went too far, such as _Kolinahr_, the discipline in which no emotion whatsoever was allowed. Surak's philosophy was strict and exacting, but because of it, Vulcan had the enviable distinction of being one of the handful of planets in the Galaxy with virtually no crime or violence, except in the Mating Time. This was the time in the life of every Vulcan male when he had to release the ancient passions which had built up in his body because of emotional suppression by joining both physically and mentally with a bondmate.

It was necessary in order to survive the part of his life when his emotions were all but uncontrollable and his logic virtually ripped from him. Without the bonding, and therefore some control of the male by the female, the violent sex which would end the _pon farr _was nothing less than rape. It was hard for Christine to imagine the always-gentle Spock doing such a thing, even knowing what had happened the first time around. It would probably be another year or two before it came upon him again, provided his dual heritage and immersion in Kolinahr didn't alter the cycle's frequency or length.

She could only hope that she would be chosen as Spock's bondmate between now and then, so that she would be in a position to help him, learning how to deal with his Times and what they compelled him to do. She also hoped to be able to call upon his mother for an explanation of how to handle him when the Times came. It would also have helped if she could have had Amanda to see her through her present difficulty, but she didn't, so she would have to muddle through as best she could on her own.

---------------------

Spock was gone when she awakened, having left before dawn to keep the rendezvous with Sapphira. Pietro was the one who awakened her. She could tell that he found her attractive simply by the look into his eyes. He was undeniably attractive himself, but he would have been easier to appreciate if Spock hadn't been so much in her heart.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly when she was fully awake. "What would you like me to do for you today?"

He had also wanted to call her "mistress" in private, but Christine instructed him not to, because Spock didn't. She also told him that Spock usually combed her hair after her bath. She didn't want to hurt Pietro, but it seemed unavoidable. Hiding his disappointment, he waited for her in the bedroom, making the bed while she bathed and dressed. He combed her hair when it came time, and to her surprise, even said he could fix it if she liked.

Christine smiled and nodded. "Yes, of course. I usually have to do it because Spock doesn't know how to do hair."

Once both were ready, they left her apartment and headed out...Pietro for the kitchen, Christine for the Women's Pavilion. She felt depressed enough knowing that Spock would not be with her without Sapphira flaunting him in front of her. Christine also didn't care to think of how he had probably spent the last couple of hours.

She caught a glimpse of Spock as the men brought in the food. Their eyes met briefly, but he couldn't speak to her, so he simply gave her a reassuring (if apologetic) half-smile. Christine forced back tears and made herself smile at Pietro as he brought her breakfast and began to feed her, occupying herself with him as much as possible, but unable to tune out the other woman's smug voice.

"I will say one thing for you, Lady Christine. You have excellent taste in male slaves. Spock pleased me immensely this morning; he is everything you said he was. Even Pietro does not have the stamina Spock does."

Every word drove the knife deeper, but Christine dared not show how much she hurt. Sapphira didn't deserve the satisfaction. She also intended to ask Spock for a full report of what had happened during the twelve hours of their enforced separation. The other woman was so busy extolling the virtues of her temporary slave that she didn't notice both Spock and Pietro glaring at her, directing looks of concern at Christine's large, sad eyes. Sapphira had all the subtlety of the proverbial ton of bricks!

The Vulcan went over the last two hours in his mind as he fed his temporary mistress, recalling how he had been ambushed upon stepping into Sapphira's apartment. He had instinctively fought her, having been taken by surprise, but in the end, had given in (at least temporarily) as he recalled what Pietro had told him about what happened to a man who refused her. Even at that, it was necessary for him to come up with a viable alternative—and when he did, he believed his solution most ingenious.

Once her guard had been lowered, he gently nerve-pinched her, and while she was unconscious, filled her mind with visions of wonderful sex between them. Hopefully she would consider it the best she'd ever (supposedly) had and be satisfied with it, seeing no need to pursue him for more.

It wasn't easy for Spock to do it, but he considered it infinitely preferable to going through the genuine article with someone he did not care for. Of course, there was still a danger that she would want more, and hoped his luck would hold long enough for him to get through that as well without having to endure actual sex with her. No guarantee of that, of course, but he could always hope.

This certainly hadn't been among the things he had expected to do in the line of duty, but he considered it worth the trouble, since Jim would not have been able to nerve-pinch Sapphira, then plant suggestions of incredible eroticism in her mind as he himself had. Not even the incident with the female Romulan Commander had been like this. In spite of the attraction between them, there had been no actual physical joining there, either. Spock had sensed that she would have liked nothing better, but he had had other things on his mind.

Sapphira was something else again. From what Pietro had told him, she made even the female Romulan look like a pussycat. For this reason (among others), the Vulcan hoped that Sapphira had gotten her lust out of her system, because he didn't want to go through another such experience again if he didn't have to... not even for Jim. He was also unable to openly criticize Sapphira's treatment of Christine, but did intend to speak to Pietro at the first opportunity to find out how she was. He regretted the necessity of what he was doing and planned to make it up to Christine as soon as he could. The remainder of the twelve hours could not pass soon enough for him.

**four**

The slaves and mistresses retired to their apartments again after breakfast. Feeling as she did, Christine was grateful for it...and for the strong arms around her as Pietro tried to comfort her upon their arrival behind closed doors—but she refused him when he tried to kiss her.

He tried to be understanding, knowing it was not a personal slight, but Christine was so gentle, kind and beautiful that he couldn't help but want her. For her sake, he hoped that Spock wasn't using her. Pietro had noticed the way her eyes lingered on the Vulcan whenever he was in her vicinity, tenderness yet profound sadness in their blue depths. If Spock didn't appreciate the deep love this extraordinary woman bore for him and didn't feel for her in return, then he seriously questioned the man's sanity.

"I know it's nothing personal, Christine, but surely you know how I feel about you. Spock must have told you...but you won't let me kiss you or touch you other than what's strictly necessary." The hurt in his voice brought her head up to face him.

"I'm sorry to hurt you, Pietro, but I cannot respond to you as you would like. Spock is the one I love—the only one I want to have kiss me or touch me. He has been for years, and I believe he will always be. It's not fair to even begin to compare the two of you. Spock is unlike any man I've ever known. I doubt there's anyone in the Galaxy to equal him. As things stand now, I can only be your friend. I'm sorry for wasting your time and mine. One such as you deserves better than leavings."

The tone of Christine's voice told her companion that it wouldn't do him any good to try to get any further personal information regarding Spock out of her. It seemed that she was fiercely loyal to Spock, however he treated her, and nothing and no one could shake it.

He said instead, "May I at least sit on the couch with you and hold you as we talk?"

Christine smiled again and nodded. "That's the least I can do for you."

"Thank you." He returned the smile.

"No. Thank _you_."

They moved into the living room and onto the couch. Christine rested her head on Pietro's broad chest, surprised to hear the beat of his heart under her ear. She was used to feeling Spock's heartbeat under her hand, since it was located in his upper right abdomen. She clamped down hard on the images and depression which came to mind at the thought of him.

Pietro tried to make her feel better by holding her tighter and stroking her hair, but it didn't seem to help. Her depression only increased, and his heart ached for her and his inability to ease her black mood. There was only one person from whom she would accept love and consolation...  
and that person was presently denied to her.

However much Pietro tried, he was a poor substitute for Spock—a poor substitute for the man his temporary mistress loved. He envied Spock such a woman, because he couldn't be sure if he would ever have the opportunity to find one like her. He doubted Sapphira would ever release him, but if she did, he intended to do all he could to find another like Christine and wed her...then have children, if possible.

After a time, Christine fell asleep. Pietro held her as she slept, tears misting his eyes as he smelled her fragrant hair and felt her head, heavy on his chest. How could such a woman have come into his life, yet belong to another?

Pietro made a mental note to have a talk with Spock about his companion, and if the Vulcan was using her, he would have some choice words for him—and they wouldn't be pleasant ones. Christine had done nothing to deserve the pain she was enduring, and Spock had no right to inflict it on her, whatever his so-called motivation.

Pietro held Christine this way for several hours; they didn't even go to lunch. _All the better,_ he thought. Let Spock and Sapphira think what they like. If the Vulcan didn't know Christine any better than that, he deserved to lose her. Pietro preferred to be alone with Christine, anyway...  
and they would not be disturbed—which suited him just fine. He was going to enjoy her as long as he could, and to blazes with what anyone else (including Spock) thought!

Spock and Sapphira were indeed bothered by Christine and Pietro's failure to appear at lunch, but for different reasons. The other woman had devised a particularly diabolical scheme to pay Christine back for the torture she believed the latter had made her endure the first night. Fortunately for Christine, Sapphira was unable to carry it out because her intended victim was not present. This fact not only spoiled her day, but her appetite.

Spock hardly noticed that Sapphira was off her feed. He was more concerned with Christine and what she and Pietro might be doing. The Vulcan knew how Pietro felt about Christine, so his apprehension grew into fear, and that fear into sheer terror. There were still six of the twelve hours left, and how he was going to get through them, Spock had no idea.

He could not go check on them and possibly invade their privacy, mainly because of Sapphira, but Christine would not engage in physical love with Pietro. She couldn't! Her desire for him was great, but tempered by an equally great love. The most she could possibly feel for Pietro (if anything) was the same as what Sapphira felt for him, the Vulcan was certain of that.

Sapphira's impatient voice brought him back to reality. "Spock! Spock, I am speaking to you!"

Spock lifted his head to meet her furious eyes. "Yes, mistress?"

"What were you thinking of that you didn't hear me until now?"

It was hard to know what to say that wouldn't either get him in trouble or be an outright lie, but Spock knew he had to think of something...and fast!

He finally said, "Simply wondering what Pietro and my regular mistress are doing."

"Probably the same as we have been doing, my handsome one. And now that we have eaten, let us go do more of the same."

Her eyes raked lasciviously over his body and she licked her lips in such a way that Spock half expected her to drool. The idea turned his stomach, and he fought off nausea. Desire was one thing, love quite another. Both were difficult to feel, much less admit to, for one such as he—but what Spock felt now was neither of those things. Yet he dared not let her know this if he wanted to come through this encounter with the mission accomplished and himself intact.

"Very well, mistress," he made himself say as they left the Women's Pavilion and headed back to her apartment. _May Surak give me the strength to endure this, _the Vulcan thought as he preceded her.

Ordinarily this was unheard of, but Sapphira wanted the chance to feast her eyes on the half-alien's incredible body. Spock had prepared himself, so he was ready once Sapphira (however inadvertently) gave him another opportunity to avoid having to join with her.

After again rendering her unconscious, he again filled her mind with more imaginary eroticism between them, along with the suggestion that the reason her neck would hurt was because of all the strenuous activity they had supposedly engaged in. Still, the situation made Spock feel like a piece of meat instead of a person.

Sapphira didn't care about him; she only wanted his body. Christine desired him, certainly, but she also loved him, the person he was. His feelings mattered more to her than her own—and most importantly, she allowed him to take the initiative in their encounters instead of being the aggressor, as Sapphira was.

These things were what changed Spock's attitude toward Christine once and for all...and if the truth be told, it also changed his heart, but it would be a long time before he admitted it—either to her or himself.

After moving Sapphira off him, Spock lay awake beside her, hungering for Christine and her love. Was this how Pietro had felt after his encounters with Sapphira? A physical joining was meaningless without love...and there was love between Christine and himself now, even if he chose not to acknowledge or admit it.

Spock had no idea when it had happened and didn't care. All he knew was that it existed, and would exist for as long as they both lived. The best he could hope for now was the chance to make up for all the times he had hurt and neglected Christine, do all in his power to make her happy, love her as she deserved. With that thought in mind, the Vulcan put himself into a sleep-trance and blessed oblivion for the next several hours.

Spock was thankful that Sapphira was a heavy sleeper; he could never have slipped away from her so easily otherwise. He and Pietro passed each other without speaking, the other man glaring at him before disappearing into Sapphira's apartment. Spock wondered why, but had no time to dwell on it. It was time to get back to Christine. He had left half an hour early, if only to have a short time alone with Christine before dinner. He owed this to them both...and it would suit him just fine if he was never near Sapphira again.

The Vulcan arrived at the apartment he shared with Christine in record time, entering quietly. He didn't find her in the outer rooms, so he decided to see if she was still in the bedroom. As he neared the bed, he saw that her eyes were swollen and red, her face tear-streaked. She had been crying in her sleep—and Spock could guess why. Perhaps this was the reason Pietro had glared at him. It touched him deeply, and the Vulcan was determined to erase her pain any way he could...if he could.

There was enough room for him to slide into bed beside her, so he slipped out of his sandals and slave outfit before changing into a nightshirt, taking her into his arms to kiss her wet cheeks and stroke her hair soothingly. Christine was in the midst of a dream of this very thing, cursing as she felt herself ready to awaken.

Not fair—not fair! One always seemed to awaken in the middle of beautiful dreams. Her eyelids fluttered, catching a glimpse of someone (presumably Pietro) sitting beside her, then closed again. Just a few more minutes... She came fully awake at the feel of warm lips kissing her eyelids.

"Pietro?" she murmured sleepily.

"No, Christine," came a beloved voice. "I have returned."

Her eyes flew open in delighted shock. "Spock--? _Spock_!" She began crying again, this time with happiness, as she covered his face with kisses. "Oh, my love, I missed you so!"

_And I have missed you,_ the Vulcan thought, inwardly smiling as she hugged the stuffing out of him...but he hardly minded.

"I was so worried about you—and it didn't help that Sapphira paraded you around in front of me. I don't know what I'd have done without Pietro."

"I...am glad he was here for you," was the quiet reply. "Did you have a pleasant sojourn with him?"

"It was nice, but I think I bugged him."

"'Bugged' him?"

"I wouldn't let him do anything."

"Why not?"

"Look in the mirror, Mister. _That's_ why not."

Spock was both pleased and ashamed to hear this. If he hadn't deserved this woman before, he certainly didn't deserve her now. "I am sorry I was unable to return the favor."

"You had no choice in the matter, Spock. We both agreed on that...but knowing that didn't make it any easier for me to endure seeing you with her."

"Is that why you cried?" He brushed one wet cheek with his fingertips. "Perhaps that is why Pietro looked at me the way he did as we passed one another in the hall outside Sapphira's suite."

Christine's eyes widened. "In what way?"

"As if I had committed a mortal sin against you."

"I'm sorry. I never meant for it to happen."

"You have nothing to apologize for. If anyone should apologize, it should be me."

"What for?"

"For Sapphira, and the way I have treated you over the years."

Christine gave him an impish grin. "Now that you mention it, yes, you _should _apologize for that. Thank you. Now we can start fresh."

"As friends, or as what we have been here?" he asked.

"What have we been here?" she questioned.

"You do not know?"

"We've been playing mistress and slave, for one thing..." She was cut off in mid-sentence as their eyes met.

"What else?" he almost purred.

Her eyes widened. "...and playing being lovers," she finished softly.

"And lovers," he repeated.

"You want us to be lovers? For real?" She sounded incredulous.

"You object to the idea?" His face hardened.

"No, of course not. I was just surprised. It's not something I ever expected to hear from you. We've never been more than friends. And don't do this just to please me. You've got to want it, too."

"I would not ask if I did not want it." He sounded almost indignant.

"What about when we're back on the ship?" 

"We will concern ourselves with that when the time comes. Meanwhile, I believe we have a large amount of 'lost time' to make up for." Again, his velvety baritone sounded like a purr.

"Twelve hours isn't that much."

"I am referring to the years we have wasted," he corrected. "But we can make up for that first, if you like."

"Spock, it's time for dinner," she told him, looking at the bedside chrono.

"I am not hungry," he replied. "At least not for food." His voice lowered as he put a hand on her cheek, dark eyes soft with love—and warm with something else. "Could we not...forego...the evening meal tonight? I would rather be with you." To reinforce his wish, he gathered her close and gave her a deep, lingering kiss.

"I—suppose we could...skip it...this once." She was breath less when he released her. "I'm not hungry, either. Not now." She sighed happily. "May I know what happened during the twelve hours we were apart?"

Spock's face hardened again. "You are all I am concerned with at the moment."

Christine smiled and kissed his nose. "Thank you, my love, but I still want to know what happened."

He sighed. "Very well. We shall discuss it—on one condition."

"What condition?"

"That we postpone the discussion until tomorrow."

"If you say so."

"I say so. No more talking. Now is the time to sleep. Good night."

-------------------

Sapphira wasn't pleased at finding Spock gone upon awakening on the evening of the fifth day, but managed to satisfy herself with Pietro after dinner. Neither had Pietro been surprised that Spock and Christine hadn't appeared for dinner. Perhaps he had been wrong about Spock...but still intended to have a talk with the Vulcan at the first opportunity.

Christine had been hurt enough. He and Spock, if proved sincere, must work together to keep unpleasant incidents to a minimum—for both her and the Vulcan. Meanwhile, preparations were being made for the bi-weekly orgy, also held in the Women's Pavilion, since it was the largest room in the living complex. Pietro had to wonder if Christine would manage to get Spock to come, since the Argelian/Italian knew that Vulcans weren't into public displays, particularly not public displays of sex.

It was about 2400 when Spock and Christine awakened, simply lying together holding each other. His cheek rested on the top of her head, which was cradled on his shoulder. They were quiet for a time, each savoring the other's closeness, until Christine lifted her head and looked up at him.

"Spock?" she asked softly.

"Yes?" came the half-drowsy answer from beside her.

"Will you tell me what happened with you and Sapphira now?"

"Can you not guess?" His voice was a mixture of annoyance and disgust. "Fortunately, I thought of a way to both...fulfill my—obligation and still accomplish our mission without having to actually join with Sapphira." His voice lightened.

"What did you do?" Christine wondered, laughing after Spock told her. "She certainly had it coming...and from what you said, she'll never know that you never actually joined with her. Even at that, it doesn't sound like much fun."

"It was not—but that is often the way of necessary things."

How right you are, my love, Christine thought, but said, "I know...and I'm glad it's behind us now."

"As am I." He gave her a half-smile and drew her close. "Now we may concentrate on each other." With that, the couple shared a good-night kiss and drifted off to sleep again.

It was business as usual the morning of the sixth day, with one exception. Spock made a point of seeking out Pietro and finding out what he had supposedly done that had made Christine cry and the other man glare at him.

"Are you sure you want me to tell you?" Pietro's tone was ominous. "You may regret it."

"Let me be the judge of that," Spock returned. "I wish to know."

Pietro sighed. "Very well, but don't say I didn't warn you."

He went on to relay to Spock what all had transpired while he was with Christine, Sapphira's treatment of her, and how much he'd wanted her, yet she had refused him. The closest he had come was holding her as she slept after having poured out her heart about Spock. The tears had come later, after Pietro had fallen asleep.

"It hurt me to see her cry, Spock—and cry because of you. I hope you aren't using Christine; otherwise you'd answer to me. She deserves better."

"I assure you, Pietro, that I am not 'using' her. You have my word as a Vulcan...and Vulcans are not in the habit of lying."

"Does that mean you have come to—love her?" 

The Vulcan's only response was a stiff nod.

Pietro sensed that that was as much as he was going to get out of Spock regarding his feelings for Christine, so he contented himself with that. But now that that was behind them, there was something else he needed to say.

"Are you aware that there is to be an orgy tomorrow evening after dinner?" 

The Vulcan's eyes widened and he turned pale.

"Do you know what it involves? If not, I can explain."

"Unnecessary," Spock told him. "It is a ritual in which several people engage in...public sex."

"That's essentially it," Pietro agreed. "I know Vulcans don't approve of public demonstrativeness, so it will probably be very difficult for you."

"Would I have to—engage in sex with different women?" the Vulcan asked.

"Most men choose to remain with their mistresses," was the reply.

"Then I will consider it...as long as I may remain with Christine."

"Does she know about the orgy?"

"I do not know. I would have to ask her."

"I also suggest that the two of you be as rested as possible. It may go on for many hours."

"Are you allowed to leave if you choose?"

"I believe so, but it is rarely done—at least by Sapphirans. Humans and Vulcans no doubt have different beliefs."

"We do," Spock confirmed. "So do not be surprised if Christine and I do not stay long."

"You must stay at least two hours," Pietro informed him. "But after that, you're free to leave if you wish. That is, if you aren't...well...engaged."

Spock fought off a blush as he answered. "We must return to our mistresses now. I will see you later, Pietro."

They picked up the food trays and headed for the kitchen door.

"Later, Spock."

The _Enterprise_ returned in the early morning of the seventh day, about 0500; Kirk contacted Spock and they had a lengthy conversation about all that had happened on their respective missions, the Vulcan conducting his end of it from the bedroom of the planetside apartment he shared with Christine as she lay beside him, deeply asleep. The two kept their voices down in order not to disturb her. The mission had been almost as difficult for her as it had for Spock, and sleep was one of the few ways she could relax, even for a little while.

The Captain was also concerned about how Spock and Christine were holding up; the Vulcan assured him that they were doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances. All the same, Kirk was certain that there was a lot Spock wasn't telling him, vowing to have a talk with his alien friend about the Sapphiran mission at the first opportunity, but for the moment held his peace. Near the end of the conversation, the Captain made Spock promise to let him know if they needed help at any time during the latter half of the mission.

"Thank you, Jim. I shall keep it in mind," the First Officer replied, his voice quiet and laced with mixed gratitude and affection.

"Take care, my friend, and give my best to Christine. I'll see you both when you get back. Let me know, too, when you're ready to return to the ship." Kirk's voice was laced with equal affection.

"I will do so. Spock out." He felt his companion's movements and knew she would soon awaken.

"Talk to you later, Spock. Kirk out."

The Vulcan closed his communicator and set it on the bedside table even as Christine yawned, stretched, and sat up.

"Is the ship here?" she asked upon meeting his eyes. "I was sure I heard Captain Kirk's voice."

"Yes. I just finished speaking with Jim. The _Enterprise_ returned approximately half an hour ago."

Christine sighed with relief. "Thank God. That way, we can call on them if we need help."

"Indeed," the Vulcan concurred with a half-smile.

Christine then swung out of bed, throwing the covers off and rummaging in her travel bag for a fresh set of clothes. Another half-hour later, both were bathed and dressed, heading out to start another day. Meanwhile, she was curious to know what Kirk and Spock had discussed, but decided not to pressure him for information, telling herself that Spock would tell her if he thought she should know.

A short time later, Spock discovered that Christine had also been told of the upcoming orgy, assuring her that he was as prepared as she was. She doubted it, but saw no point in arguing with him. They were going to have enough to endure without that.

The following evening, after the dinner dishes had been cleared away and everything washed, the Pavilion was set up with couches, beds, and anything else one could lie on in preparation for the coming night's activity. Because he was among the strongest, the Vulcan had been pressed into service to set up the couches, beds and such. He could only hope the spot he and Christine ended up wasn't too public, though he didn't expect to have much choice in the matter.

The men who had assisted in the set-up were allowed to bathe and change, as were the women—and the orgy began promptly at 2100 hours, ship's time. It started out with simple touches and kisses, but soon graduated to all-out sex with all the accompanying sound effects.  
The most Spock and Christine had done was kiss and touch, although they were lying together on a large, soft couch in a secluded corner of the room. The intensity of emotion from the others in the room was as much as the Vulcan's mental shields could stand. After a time, he whispered to Christine.

"Please, let us leave. Do not make me do this in public."

"I'm sorry, Spock, but we must stay at least two hours." Her tone was apologetic even as he felt her lips brush his ear. "Try not to think of them. Think only of me." She raised his hand to her face; his fingers automatically assumed the mind-meld position shortly before he felt her warm breath in his ear.

He shivered, finding it difficult to concentrate on the meld when her lips found his...but with her help, he managed. It was a long time before either of them spoke again—and when he did, it was a mere whisper against her lips.

"Christine..."

"Beloved..."

She silenced him with an almost unbearably sweet and exciting kiss upon their breaking off the meld. Spock could not think, but only feel. The couple soon became lost in each other's arms, oblivious to the passage of time as well as to the goings-on around them.

They awakened two hours later, still intricately entwined, even though the pair had not made love, since they were still dressed—but the temptation had been great. It was quiet in the darkened room except for hushed breathing, occasional snores and sounds of movement. Their couch made no noise as the couple got to their feet. After they stood up, the Vulcan headed for the door with his Human companion cradled in his arms.

Upon arrival at their apartment, the pair made a beeline for the bedroom, thankful for its blessed privacy. It was dark, but Spock needed no lights to find his way because of his excellent night vision due to life on moonless Vulcan, coupled with his photographic memory.

Once they were settled again, he kissed his companion softly and whispered, "This is better, is it not?"

"Much," she agreed, a smile in her voice.

"Would you like to sleep now?"

"As long as you're with me."

"I am not going anywhere," he assured her. "Sleep well, Christine."

Upon awakening on the eighth day, their routine returned to normal...or as normal as it was possible for them to be in such a place and situation as this. The euphoric state from their time alone in the apartment bedroom following the orgy lasted the entire morning and afternoon.

Christine either stroked Spock's cheek, kissed his hand or nose, or he smiled at her as he lifted her glass so she could drink, his dark eyes soft as they looked upon her: nor did the couple bother their heads about how Sapphira must have felt upon seeing them doing this. Of course, she wouldn't understand the tenderness shown because she had never experienced love—and until and unless she cleaned up her act, it was unlikely that she ever would.


	3. Chapter 5 & 6

**five**

Two days later, on the tenth day of the mission, things changed. Spock was in the community kitchen fixing Christine a snack when Sapphira entered unexpectedly. He raised an eyebrow at this. She had never come here before; why was she here now? He felt her eyes on him for some time, but forced himself to ignore her...until she approached him.

"What are you doing here, My Lady?"

"I wish to speak to you, Spock."

"I have already done my duty by you. I am under no further obligation to you."

Sapphira's voice became a purr. "Is that all you considered it? I enjoyed myself immensely."

"Obviously," the Vulcan returned dryly even as she moved up next to him and stroked his back. Spock did not react to the touch.

"Your mistress dislikes me. I feel sure she would turn me down, should I offer for you again." Sapphira's hand moved down to trace the curve of his lower back.

"So you are trying to convince me to speak to her on your behalf," Spock finished. "I am sorry. I cannot."

Her hand moved down further.

"My Lady! I am not your property. Please refrain from touching me in such an intimate manner, or else I will be forced to report your actions."

Her reply was almost a sneer. "Who would you report to? I am the law here."

"Then you are breaking one of your own laws, as I understand them...

specifically, the one which states that no woman, even the planetary leader, may trespass on the property of another woman—specifically, a male slave, without the other woman's permission." The Vulcan recalled the briefing Christine had given him of current Sapphiran law upon their beaming down.

"I can change the laws as easily as snapping my fingers," she bluffed—but Spock did not back down.

"But you would punish one of your own people if they did what you are doing, would you not?"

"I would," she told him. "Most severely."

"Yet you believe it permissible for you yourself to trespass on another woman's property in order to satisfy your desires. That is what is known as a 'double standard'."

"I am the ruler of this planet. You will obey me, or else I will destroy you!" 

"You do not own me. I belong to the Lady Christine." Spock picked up the tray with the sandwich and drink and headed for the kitchen door.

"I am not finished with you, Spock. You go nowhere until I say you can!" 

Her hand caught his right arm, taking him by surprise; the tray tilted and the drink spilled—but he managed to save the sandwich...barely. The liquid made a pinkish-orange puddle on the floor, and the plastic glass rolled until it came to rest against the nearest table leg.

"That was uncalled for. I am performing a service for my mistress. Now I must replace the drink." His voice was barely civil as he set the sandwich and tray aside, heading for the fridge to replenish the drink after picking up the glass and rinsing it.

Sapphira took the opportunity to push the Vulcan back against the wall next to the fridge, kissing him passionately as she pressed herself against him, her tongue forcing its way into his unwilling mouth even as one hand reached between his legs. The other hand held one of his wrists—but only one, which was her mistake. Spock regretted what he had to do, but saw no other option.

His free hand found the junction of his assailant's neck and shoulder, gently squeezing. Her eyes glazed over and her body went limp. He placed her in a chair at the table as he cleaned up the spilled drink and replaced it with a fresh one, taking his leave without looking back. He had to tell Christine about this. At the very least, what Sapphira had done was sexual harassment; at worst, assault. The Vulcan applied the kind of pinch which would keep Sapphira out for at least a quarter of an hour, giving him time to explain what had happened.

Christine could tell something had happened when Spock returned and set the tray with the drink and sandwich in front of her. He tried to hide it, but his body language told her he had been badly shaken by something. What could have happened in the short time he'd been away from her...and in the kitchen, of all places? Halfway through the sandwich and drink, she reached to touch his hand. He looked up at her, eyes full of hurt, anger, and fear.

"Spock, something happened to you. Something bad. Please tell me what it is."

He hung his head and flushed, unable to answer.

"Was it Sapphira? Did she come on to you again?"

He could only nod.

"What did she do? You must tell me—or else we could be in big trouble."

The Vulcan lifted his head and forced himself to speak, his grip on her hand tightening. "I had...made your sandwich and drink when Sapphira entered the kitchen."

Christine frowned. "You were alone, I take it. She'd never have done anything in front of witnesses."

Spock nodded again, telling her about his encounter with Sapphira in the kitchen, repeating their conversation as close to verbatim as he could bear to...then his head bowed again. What Christine could see of his face and ears was a deep green.

"I'm sorry, Spock. If only I could have been there to stop her."

"It was—not your fault." His voice was barely audible.

"Neither was it yours. If nothing else, we might have to say that Sapphira is not trustworthy because of what she did, and we should think twice about negotiating any kind of treaty with her. Either that, or we can suggest to her...ever so subtly...that if she doesn't agree to our terms, we'll tell the Federation Council what happened and the membership application will be rejected."

"That is blackmail," Spock pointed out upon raising his head.

Christine was pleased to note that his color had lessened. "What she tried to do to you is no less unspeakable, so we're even," she returned archly. "Just the same, we'd better be prepared for a fight. If I know her kind, she'll probably claim that you instigated the whole thing. Fortunately, the Vulcan reputation for honesty is well-known here, so that should help us."

It was as expected. Sapphira denied all of Spock's allegations when they confronted her the next day, the eleventh day of the mission, claiming that he had been the aggressor. Worst of all, there had been no witnesses. She had made sure of that, so it was his word against hers. What could they do, even with the truth on their side, to get Sapphira to admit what she'd done?

Christine looked right through Sapphira; her face told the other woman that she didn't believe a word she said...with good reason.

"You doubt my word?" Sapphira's tone was ominous.

"Spock has never lied to me," Christine declared. "And I have never trusted you. If you can assault Spock, you're capable of anything."

With the accusing eyes of the other women and their slaves (including Pietro) on her, there was little Sapphira could do but admit her heinous act—but even then, she tried to whitewash herself. "He said he would comply with my wishes."

"With my permission...which I never gave." Christine's voice was severe. "Instead, you tried to take him by force, something which you would punish one of your own people for. You've broken one of your own laws. I would be within my rights to begin legal proceedings against you.

"Unless you agree to sign a mining treaty with us—on our terms—for your dilithium and pergium, one word from us will deem you untrustworthy, and this planet will be put off-limits to Federation ships. Lastly, your membership application will be rejected, because the Federation Council will be told what you've done."

Sapphira was furious. "That's blackmail," she spat.

"Your sexual harassment and attempted assault cancels out our 'blackmail'," Christine returned evenly, thankful for her decision to study Federation law upon learning of this mission.

Sapphira was speechless with fury, but agreed to sign the mining treaty the following day at a signing ceremony in the Women's Pavilion. Christine warned Spock to be on his guard whenever he was alone the last three days of the mission. It was obvious that the Vulcan could take care of himself, but Spock assured her he would keep in mind what Sapphira had done and make sure she didn't corner him again.

The final days of the mission passed uneventfully. Christine was glad she wouldn't have to deal with Sapphira again, for she was sure that the woman could have killed her and taken pleasure in doing it. The Doctor hadn't particularly enjoyed what she'd had to do, but knew she would do whatever was necessary to protect Spock, as he would her.

She also knew that it would take a long time for Spock to recover his Vulcan demeanor after two weeks among the hedonistic Sapphirans. The after-effects of the experience would stay with them for months to come, as had the memories of the mind-control and sadism on Platonius. It was also quite likely that he was still trying to sort out what had happened to him during the V'Ger mission some weeks ago, so this added emotional disturbance didn't help matters.

Kirk was pleased that the mission had been successful, but sensed that an emotional trauma had beset his Vulcan friend in the process, compounding his guilt at having been forced to send him there. He wanted to talk to Spock, but the Vulcan's tight control kept the Captain at arm's length. He ached for his friend, but couldn't help unless Spock allowed it.

Spock also avoided Christine for several weeks after the Sapphiran mission, and though she was hurt, she told herself she understood and didn't try to approach him after her initial attempt. She vowed to help him in any and every way she could—as soon as he gave her an opening. He needed time to get his head together, a chance to put what they had done into some sort of perspective.

The one time she had tried to talk to Spock, he had hidden behind his Vulcan mask, declaring that everything he had done (including their relationship on the planet) had been done out of duty. Christine had her doubts, however, especially when she recalled their times alone together.

He was no doubt reinforcing his mental shields and the corresponding disciplines, but if her own difficulty in putting the incident behind her was any barometer, Spock had to be going through Hell...to put it mildly! She could only pray that it wouldn't do him permanent emotional damage. Despite his confident exterior, the Vulcan was more vulnerable than most (emotionally speaking) to the influence of others, especially influence of the malevolent kind, because of his all-too-tender heart and fragile ego structure.

It was six weeks before either Kirk or Christine dared to approach Spock again. Not even McCoy made the attempt, and by now (at least in ordinary situations), the Doctor would have tried to snap the Vulcan out of his "blue funk" by initiating one of their infamous verbal jousts.

But even McCoy sensed that this was no ordinary situation but rather, a serious problem, and cared too much to say something which might make Spock think he was trying to make light of his troubles. Spock had to tell someone, get it off his chest, but from what Jim had said, their Vulcan friend hadn't said word one about the Sapphiran incident. Not even to him—and that was saying something. If even Kirk couldn't get Spock to talk, what was it going to take?

The Vulcan was well aware of his friends' (and Christine's) concern for him, and knew he should—needed to—discuss the matter. With Kirk, preferably...but he had been unable to speak, even after six weeks. How could he ever explain, even to Jim, what he and Christine had shared on Sapphira VII—the physical and emotional closeness, much less what he had had to do in order to secure the mining rights?

Spock was also aware that his Human friend felt guilty about subjecting him to the hedonistic Sapphiran society, even if he himself had insisted on going in Jim's place, and that Jim's guilt had been compounded by his refusal to discuss the incident. But Spock's thoughts were so jumbled and confused that he had to make some sense of them, put them into some kind of understandable order before he could even begin to explain what had taken place.

He had not succeeded, even after six weeks—and what was worse, he had wanted Christine every moment of those six weeks. But the worst part was the knowledge that he didn't just want her temporarily, but permanently...as bondmate and wife. Spock wanted the touch of her mind, to feel her love for him again.

It was impossible, but the need remained—and grew. But nothing good could come from compounding his weakness and foolishness, so he forced himself to keep his distance from her.

Following the debacle on Vulcan, Spock had kept himself far away from romantic relationships, determined not to be hurt again. It had overwhelmed him when he had been thrust into the bizarre situation with Christine. Before Sapphira VII, there had never been more than an embrace between them, despite the fact that Spock had found himself more than halfway in love with her. He could not allow himself to think of what a fool he had been the night of the orgy, letting his emotions run away with him. If he did, he would go mad for sure.

Jim would have said that he was suffering the birth pangs of new-found love, but Spock had enough to contend with just dealing with the after-effects of _Kolinahr_, V'Ger and the Sapphiran mission, much less the knowledge that he was deeply, completely, and irrevocably in love—in love as he had never been before and never would be again. It had seemed easier to express those feelings on the planet than aboard ship. He had no idea why that was; nor did he care. What mattered was that he felt them, and most importantly, had found the woman to share the rest of his life with.

The buzzer brought the Vulcan back to reality. "Come," he said, not caring who it was, knowing only that he had no intention of being alone with his turmoil any longer. It had to come out, one way or another...and the sooner, the better.

"Spock?" 

Kirk's voice was quiet and hesitant, something it rarely was, considering their deep, brotherly affection for each other. The two held few secrets from each other except for those of the last six weeks—and however difficult it might be, Spock knew he had to explain what had happened.

"In here," Spock called back.

Kirk soon appeared in the doorway of the sleeping alcove. "May I come in?"

"Of course, Jim."

"Well, I had to ask," the Captain said with a relieved chuckle as he entered and stood next to Spock's bed. "We haven't talked in weeks...at least not as friends. I think I can guess why, too, so please forgive me for sending you down to Sapphira VII, and with Christine Chapel of all people. It must have been hard enough for you to handle without having to deal with her, too. You don't know how much I've kicked myself, the guilt I've felt at putting you through that ordeal. How can I possibly call myself your friend any more, much less expect _you_ to consider me your friend?"

Spock's tone was reassuring as he sensed that Jim felt worse than he did. "Please do not browbeat yourself. Going there was my idea, not yours."

"How did you ever endure it? I know what it must have been like."

"Christine—Miss Chapel—did her best to see that I was not...harassed by any more of the women than necessary. I am—most grateful to her for that."

"So what really happened there? I've read each of your reports, but I'm sure there must be more to them than meets the eye."

Spock swallowed hard, knowing that what he had to say would be difficult, but it had to be said. "There was. You recall where I said that we were able to successfully obtain the mining rights? There was a story behind that."

"What kind of story?"

"A long, complicated, and sometimes unpleasant one," the Vulcan warned. "Are you certain you have time to listen?"

Kirk touched his friend's hand, smiling when Spock looked up...and the latter's fear melted away like an ice cube on a summer day. "I'll make time," the Captain declared. "You've carried it around for six weeks. Don't you think it's time you talked about it?"

Spock sighed. "Very well." With that, he began.

Neither had any idea how much time had passed by the time Spock finished—and when he did, he sat next to his Human friend, hands clasped in his lap and head bowed with his eyes closed, cheeks and ears suffused with green.

"Oh, my God. No wonder you didn't want to talk about it. If it had been me, I don't think I would, either." It was the first thing Kirk had said since sitting down next to his Vulcan friend some hours before.

"But that is not all," the Vulcan made himself say. "I have not...told you of how it is—or rather, was—between Christine...Miss Chapel...and myself while we were there."

"You mean there's more?"

Spock nodded, his color deepening.

"Oh, lord. I don't know how you ever stood it. It would be a lot for a Human to endure, much less someone like you."

Kirk fell silent after that, and Spock took the opportunity to speak again before he lost his nerve. He related how it had begun, what had happened their first night together (and the succeeding nights, particularly the seventh). Not to mention his reaction upon seeing Christine in the Sapphiran costume for the first time. Even at that, something told Kirk that more than the Vulcan's loss of control—that is, allowing his emotions free rein—was bothering his friend.

"Spock, are you telling me that you're...in love with Miss Chapel?"

A slight nod with deepening color.

"Does she know?"

A shake of the head this time.

"You've got to tell her, Spock."

A more emphatic shake of the head.

"I really think it's best. She has a right to know how you truly feel about what happened...and about her. It's got to be worked out—and the sooner you do it, the better."

By the look on his friend's face, Kirk could tell that Spock dreaded the idea, but gently insisted. "You've got to deal with it, how it's affected both of you, as early as possible. There's nothing to be gained by remaining silent. In fact, it's likely to make things worse."

The Vulcan's reply was barely audible. "How can I—possibly tell her? It has been...difficult enough telling _you_."

The Captain gave his friend a warm glance. "I know you must be concerned about rejection, Spock. Most men would be...but you've got to keep in mind that Christine loves you and has for a long time. I'm sure she'd be thrilled if you could tell her that you loved her, too. After all, it's what she's always wanted—and you could certainly do worse."

"Jim, please..." The Vulcan's voice was laced with pain. "At the moment, it is as much as I can endure, simply knowing that I—love her."

"It's just a suggestion, Spock. I'm not trying to force you into anything. It's your life, your decision...but she's got to know sooner or later, and it's best that it come from you instead of a stranger...or McCoy."

Spock sighed. "You are right, Jim, but it will not be easy. I would—appreciate any assistance you could give."

"That's what friends are for. Now, here's what I think you should do..."

Once that task had been accomplished, Kirk felt much more at ease—or at least enough so that he was able to express himself more readily. Up to this point, what had mattered most was that Spock got his problems off his chest. Now that things were more relaxed, and Kirk had been assured of the Vulcan's forgiveness and continued affection, words seemed to pour out of him. He seemed unable to stop for long...but Spock didn't seem to mind.

"I bet you're glad it's all behind you," the Captain opined. "I know I would be."

"I am," came the reply, but it really wasn't behind Spock yet. Not until he had come to terms with what he'd had to do with Sapphira, and the feelings brought out in him by sharing so much with Christine when he had been so unprepared.

"First off, I can imagine how it made you feel when Christine said that you could only...join with your own kind and Humans."

Kirk noticed that his friend had turned color at the mention of the incident, but was able to speak. "It was—embarrassing, but I...considered it far better than constant harassment."

Kirk smiled and nodded. "I can also imagine what it must have been like when the planetary leader said she wanted you—much less when you spent twelve hours with her. Not to mention her attempted assault on you in the kitchen while you were getting Christine something to eat."

The Vulcan was too embarrassed to speak.

"I'm also glad that you...found a friend while you were there, and that he made things easier for the both of you. Ironic that he was also the leader's personal slave."

This time, it was the Vulcan who allowed himself a smile and nod as Kirk spoke. "And I'm glad to hear that you managed to find a way around having to actually join with her. It's a cinch that I certainly couldn't have nerve-pinched her or planted suggestions of incredible sex in her mind."

Spock's color deepened once again. "Jim, it was not...something I—wanted to do, but I considered it a far more...logical alternative to an actual physical joining."

"I still wish you hadn't had to have gone through it at all."

The Vulcan reached to squeeze his friend's hand. "I know, but 'wishing' will serve no purpose now. It is done, and no amount of 'if onlys' will change what has happened."

Kirk returned the squeeze with another smile. "Oh, I think I can get used to it eventually. What concerns me is whether or not you can deal with it effectively. You've never had to handle anything quite like this before."

Spock bowed his head, unable to refute what the Captain had said...or speak at all for a time. Instead, he merely sat quietly while Kirk continued to talk.

"Even at that, I'm glad you didn't refuse to spend time with Sapphira, considering what happened to that other man who refused her. I pity him; he's never going to be the same again."

Spock raised his head and made himself speak, though he kept his hands in his lap. "Jim, what do you think we will have to do because of what she—tried to do to me, breaking one of her own laws in the process?"

Kirk frowned and shook his head. "I don't know yet; we'll have to contact Starfleet and discuss alternatives with them if we should hear of any more men being abused. Anyone who acts like that hasn't the maturity or unselfishness to rule a planet or other people effectively.  
She's got to learn that things won't always go her way, that people won't always do what she wants...and have the right to live as they choose without being punished for it. And if she ever expects to join the Federation, she's got to clean up her act considerably. Otherwise, the Sapphiran culture will degenerate into a dictatorship and that cannot be tolerated, now or ever."

"But will we not be...violating the Prime Directive if we—attempt to change their way of life?" The Vulcan's voice was a mixture of concern and apprehension.

"Perhaps," Kirk admitted. "But better that than a selfish, sadistic leader who believes everyone exists merely to serve her every whim, even if she's wrong."

"But what if her...replacement is even worse?" 

"A chance we'll have to take, although we'll do our utmost to see that it doesn't happen," came the grim reply. "If we don't do anything, things will only get worse. You know that as well as I do...and from personal experience. I'm also sure you don't want any more men to end up like the one you told me about."

The Vulcan sighed again. "You are correct, I'm afraid. In that case, it would seem that we have no choice but to risk violation of the Prime Directive if we are to help the Sapphirans. That is, provided we can come up with a course of action which is agreeable to Starfleet."

Kirk nodded stiffly. "Exactly."

**six**

But before they could help the Sapphirans, certain members of the _Enterprise _crew had to help themselves. So far, Spock had admitted only to Kirk that he needed help...and even that had taken him six weeks. Kirk would do his utmost to help his friend, but couldn't help wondering how Christine was dealing with the experiences on Sapphira VII. It must have been both a dream come true and nightmare for her, but as a man, Kirk had only a vague idea how it must be affecting her.

If anyone could help her, it would be Uhura. Usually only another woman could understand what and how a woman felt at times like this. As far as he knew, however, Christine had not discussed it with even her closest friend—and if Spock's difficulty was any barometer of hers, the Captain could well understand why Christine would have such a tough time dealing with it. But it had to be dealt with, faced, sooner or later.

Spock had realized this, but Kirk could only hope that Christine would soon...and unburden herself to her friend as Spock had to him. For their own sakes, as much as anything else, they had to talk with each other, get their feelings out into the open as soon as possible. Friends could only do so much. Where romance was concerned, it was the two parties involved who had to confess their feelings, open their hearts to each other. That was the only way things would ever be resolved.

Kirk could understand her reluctance. No one liked being (or feeling) vulnerable by opening their hearts and risking being hurt—but they could end up being hurt more if they didn't. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Spock and Christine, because of the difficult lives they had led, particularly in the last few years.

The Captain had to admire her professionalism, but it couldn't be any easier for her than it was for Spock. They had to talk soon. If would probably take Uhura lecturing Christine, as he had Spock, for the couple to muster up the courage to speak their minds (and hearts) to each other. For both their friends' sakes, Kirk hoped Uhura would do it soon.

Indeed she would, too...and a lot sooner than Christine would have liked—but however she felt, the dark woman knew that her friend needed to talk about what had happened on Sapphira VII, whether she wanted to or not. The female physician had gotten to be close-mouthed, even for her...almost Vulcan in her silent dignity—but it was a silence which was slowly destroying her. Uhura admired Christine for not speaking (most likely in deference to Spock), suffering in silence for his sake...but enough was enough.

Uhura decided to drop by Christine's quarters after having a meal and shower—and this time, wouldn't take "No" for an answer. Not even if she had to knock Chris down and sit on her. An hour later, she pressed the door buzzer at the other woman's quarters.

"Come in, Nyota," the Doctor's voice came back.

The Bantu stepped in, eyes wide with surprise, after the doors swished open to admit her. She looked around for her friend, spotting Christine in her bathroom. "How did you know it was me?"

"I've been expecting you for some time," was the reply. "I know I haven't been exactly forthcoming with what happened on Sapphira VII, but if you'd had to do and endure what I did, you wouldn't want to talk about it, either. In fact, I still don't know if I can—but do know that I have to try. It's either that or go crazy." Christine sighed as she stood at her bathroom sink and washed her face, then brushed her teeth. "Go sit on the bed, but call up some drinks and snacks first. This may take some time," she warned upon finishing her teeth.

Uhura did as told, and by the time Christine joined her, everything was set up for a long haul. Christine took a swig of Altair water for strength before she spoke. Upon doing that, she took a deep breath and began.

"I hardly know where to begin," she confessed. "My thoughts are so confused."

"Just start talking, and we'll go from there."

Christine sighed. "Okay, if you say so, but don't say I didn't warn you if what I say or how I say it sometimes seems to make no sense whatsoever."

"Chris, stop stalling and get on with it."

The Doctor gave her companion a hard look, but complied. "The Captain told us what to expect, so I figured I could handle it, but wasn't sure if Spock could. He just seemed to get paler with every passing moment, not saying a word until near the end of the meeting. Something also told me that the Captain felt guilty about sending Spock, despite the fact that Spock insisted on going to spare him the experience."

"What next?" 

Christine described the clothing she and Spock had worn. "I swear, I felt almost naked! Even my underwear covers more of me than that outfit did. As for Spock's  
...suffice it to say that my outfit was substantial compared to his. Both of us were so embarrassed that we couldn't look each other in the eye for a long time. A short time later, the planetary leader—well—took a liking to Spock, asking numerous questions about him, so I knew I had to do something quick, or else he'd never have any peace. But even that didn't stop her...not for long."

"What was the first night like?" 

Christine blushed, but forced herself to continue, revealing that she had been told by the planetary leader that in order to prove their sincerity, all newcomers were to be observed the first night. Spock had been aware that they had had to fake sex that first night; what he wasn't aware of was the fact that they had been observed.

Uhura's eyes widened. "Oh, dear God. Did Spock know?" 

"Not about the observing—and he still doesn't. It was probably wrong not to tell him, but I saw no sense in distressing him."

"But what if he finds out...and what's more, that you knew about it and didn't tell him?"

"I prefer not to think about that," was the reply.

"You're going to have to face it eventually," Uhura pointed out. "And if I know Spock, he's going to be very upset."

"A chance I had to take," Christine declared. "Well, to get back to the subject. I told Spock how we had to act in order to fool the Sapphirans, and must admit that he—performed superlatively. Both then and the times in public when we had to play mistress and slave. He's a consummate actor." She then told Uhura about the orgy and Sapphira's attempted sexual assault of Spock. "That woman has claws and fangs. She's the kind who chews up a man and spits him out."

The tone of her friend's voice told Uhura that Christine had been angry as hell, if only for Spock's sake. After this, the Bantu mainly just listened, interrupting only occasionally with questions, as Christine went on to speak in painful detail of Sapphira's lust, the penalty for refusing her, and the situation's perpetual discomfort for Spock and herself. Finally, there was a silence thick enough to cut; Uhura concluded that Christine was "talked out" and couldn't have spoken another word on the subject, even to save her own life.

The dark woman had to agree that what Chris had said at the beginning was true: if their positions had been reversed, she wouldn't have wanted to discuss it, either. Uhura also sensed that Christine hadn't told her all the details, guessing that it was for Spock's sake. Still, her mind was full of questions.

"Have you discussed your feelings with Spock?" A shake of the head. "Do you intend to, as soon as you can?" A nod this time, accompanied by another blush. "I know it won't be easy, Chris, but one of you has got to make the first move...lay your cards on the table, so to speak. Your feelings for him haven't changed, have they?" Another hard look in Uhura's direction, along with a pronounced shake of the head. "What do you think his feelings are for you now?" A shrug and another shake of the head.

Uhura sighed and got up, turning toward the door. "If you need to talk further, give me a call, okay?" Christine smiled and nodded. "See you later, Chris. We'd better get to bed now. It's nearly 0300. Do try to talk to Spock as soon as you can. It'll be the best thing for both of you. You'll see."

The other woman frowned and shook her head, but her eyes told Uhura how pleased she had been to be able to get things off her chest. The women embraced, then Uhura left. By the time it was over, Christine felt as though the weight of the Galaxy had been lifted from her shoulders...but regardless of how long, complicated or unpleasant the story was, it had needed to be told.

Christine turned back to the remains of their snacking and cleaned it up, then went to bed—but sleep was a long time coming. The discussion with Nyota had brought back the memories of Spock and the closeness they had shared on Sapphira VII, both physical and emotional. Unfortunately, they had been unable to talk about it...at least so far. They would have to eventually, but knowing how taciturn Spock was, even at the best of times, she would probably be the one to make the first move.

The rest of her night was an amalgam of dreams, beginning with their first night on Sapphira VII. She had become accustomed to Spock's closeness and keenly felt the lack of it. Even at that, she knew she had to keep a respectful distance from him, at least for the time being.

He needed to be able to gather his thoughts and make some sense of what had happened between them without interference from her, however well-meaning. But it had been six weeks; surely he must have figured things out by now—or at least talked to the Captain about it, as she had to Nyota. She would need to play things by ear and approach him only if he seemed in the mood for conversation.

Christine could judge the Vulcan's feelings and emotions by his body language and mannerisms. She had been able to do that ever since falling in love with him and two weeks of close association had honed her skills to perfection. She would begin to watch tomorrow, and as soon as there was enough evidence (or what she deemed enough) to be sure of how he felt, she would go to him and they could take it from there.

Another week passed before that happened...and when it did, it was easier than both Spock and Christine had expected. Probably because some time had gone by and they had been able to talk to their friends about it, but now they had to talk to each other. It would still be difficult for Spock, but he knew he would have to find the strength from somewhere. Perhaps it would be easier if he kept reminding himself that Christine loved him.

Both had duty for the entire week. Before picking the best time to meet, they had checked with Kirk and McCoy to find out when they would each have an evening when they would be off-duty the next day, so they could be up late if necessary. They were just lucky that they had been able to be off on the same day. That didn't happen often, so Christine took that as a good omen. Depending on the outcome of their talk, they could simply go to bed and sleep, or if things turned romantic, go to one of their quarters and go from there.

They sat in the Officers' Mess hashing out the details of when, where, and how. Still uncomfortable in each other's presence (intensified by seven weeks of denial), it was easier for the couple when they weren't alone together. Heaven knew how it would be when they were, so it was hard to decide where would be best.

Either of their quarters was too risky, because matters could so easily get out of hand. The Officers' Lounge was too public, as was the Rec Room or Officers' Mess—at least at peak hours. Perhaps if they did it at ship's night, on a day that neither had duty the next day...that might work. In the end, they decided on two days from now at 2130 hours in the Officers' Lounge. They would be alone, and have access to food, drink and music should they desire it.

Christine had not expected to be called for landing party duty at Sapphira VII, especially not with Spock. She could only recall three times other than this that she had been called...such as the time on Exo III when they thought they'd found Roger and the time on the other Taurus II when she, Nyota and a contingent of female _Enterprise_ officers had had to rescue the male officers after the women there had taken them prisoner and drained their strength, making them age prematurely.

Spock had called to her mentally, which was the only way she and Nyota had been able to find him. Only after threatening the other women were they able to find the others—then there was the time the Captain had had amnesia on the Indian planet. McCoy had called for her to assist him. Christine had envied Miramanee the chance to be with the man she loved, marry him and carry his child.

The Doctor couldn't help thinking how it might have been if she and Spock had been on the Indian planet instead—or of when Spock had taken Miramanee's head in his lap and spoken soothingly to her. Duty had been first and foremost at the time, but she could not (and would not) be stopped from wishful thinking...and Christine would soon get her wish, in a manner of speaking. It wouldn't be easy to be with him and not think of what they had shared, but she had to try. They had to talk; that was no time to let her libido get out of control.

The next two days seemed to drag. Christine was sure that the time would never arrive for her and Spock's talk about how the Sapphira VII incident had affected them. In fact, she had been sure he would call and cancel it—but to her surprise, relief and apprehension, he didn't. She wore her prettiest outfit, a silky, blue jumpsuit with lace sleeves and a scoop neck. Her hair was piled on top of her head; her jewelry was a gold-and-pearl headband and IDIC earrings. White slippers and her favorite perfume completed her ensemble.

The Doctor left her quarters at 2035; by 2055, she was approaching the Officers' Lounge. She called out upon stepping inside; Spock called to her from the port side of the spacious room. She smiled upon spotting him, heartbeat quickening in spite of her vow to control her reaction to the sight of him. He had called up dinners for them both: his own a vegetarian chef's salad and hers an Oriental meal, complete with egg drop soup and herbal tea. Her nose wrinkled in appreciation as she sat down.

"I thought it logical that we have some...nourishment as we talked, Christine. I have not eaten at all today."

She frowned at him in response to that, but smiled at the delicious taste of the food. "Spock, you should eat more, not less," she gently admonished.

One upswept brow rose. "Is that a medical order? I eat when I am hungry."

"But you should eat something even if you're not hungry. For someone of your height and life-style, you should weigh at least five kilos more."

"That sounds like a medical order," the Vulcan observed with a half-smile, taking a bite of the salad and washing it down with a swallow of Vulcan _tulac_, a drink similar to orange juice. "In that case, I will do my best to comply with your wishes." Mischief danced in his dark eyes, but his face didn't reflect it. "But I shall still give Dr. McCoy a 'run for his money'."

"Now, Spock, is that really necessary? He cares about you; that's one reason he's always after you. Believe me, I know. I work with him every day."

The First Officer was silent for a time, then said, "But he seems to expect it of me, and I have no wish to disappoint him."

"Could it also be that you enjoy jabbing at him as much as he does with you?" 

Again, one upswept eyebrow rose, then Spock admitted, "It is possible," after taking a few more bites of salad and swallows of _tulac_. "But there are times when I do not consciously intend to aggravate him, yet he acts as though I do."

Christine smiled. "He is very excitable, I admit, but the fact that he cares for his patients is part of what makes him such a good doctor."

Spock nodded with a half-smile. "I know, Christine. Do not worry. Now I would like to discuss what happened between us on Sapphira VII some weeks ago."

"Yes?" She raised her head from her food, and their eyes locked.

"There are...many things which need to be resolved between us." His voice was quiet—almost too quiet.

"Such as?" Christine had to strain to hear him.

"The...reason why I—seemed to...adapt so easily to the Sapphiran culture," he forced out.

Christine's eyes widened as she set her fork down. "When we last talked, you said that it had all been part of your duty to the Captain."

"That was true—at first."

She frowned. "At first?" 

Spock shifted uncomfortably. "It has been difficult to—sort things out. Only after...discussing it with the Captain—Jim—was I able to...make sense of it."

"Understandable. I did the same with Uhura." She reached to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"Have your feelings changed?" Spock made himself ask.

Color came into the Vulcan's cheeks despite his best efforts and he took a swallow of _tulac_ so he wouldn't have to look at her. It was enough that she was holding his hand. He was also sure that she could feel his heart-rate increase.

"Only grown deeper." Christine's eyes were soft, her smile tender. She wanted to ask Spock if he had come to love her, but sensed that this whole conversation—not just the confession of his feelings—was going to be difficult for him.

"As have mine."

Again, he spoke so quietly that she barely heard him. Spock tightened his grip on her hand; she felt it and looked up at him, eyes wide and full of inquiry. He lowered his head, certain that his cheeks were on fire, they felt so hot...but her reaction canceled out his embarrassment.

"Spock, how long I've waited to hear you say that." Her heart felt so full that she was sure it would burst. He loved her! 

"I am not finished," he insisted. "Please hear me out."

His distress was obvious, and Christine was effectively silenced. Their food was forgotten by this time, growing cold and then congealing as the two began to assuage the hunger in their hearts. The only things finished were the drinks, but they were pushed aside after that—along with the plates—as the couple held hands across the table.

"You are...lovely tonight," he told her softly. "Every bit as—lovely as when I first saw you in the Sapphiran costume."

Christine seemed stunned. "When was this?" 

"The second day of the mission. I had just showered and was coming out of the bathroom. You had dressed and were standing in front of the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall."

"But you never said..." Her voice trailed off. "I had no idea—" 

"I assumed you were aware of my...feelings." He lifted her hands to his lips. "You usually are."

Something else which had nagged at the back of Christine's mind suddenly came to her lips and she blurted it out before she could stop herself. "Spock, on the seventh day—did what I did...please you?"

He smiled one of his rare smiles. "Immensely."

Spock was less embarrassed at that confession than he had thought he would be, though still green in the face because of the intimate subject they were discussing. The warmth of his gaze upon her said all that his lips could not. This time Christine raised his hands to her lips, then released one and reached to stroke his lips with a finger.

"You have made me the happiest woman in the universe, beloved..." Her voice trailed off as Spock's eyes met hers.

The Vulcan reached his free hand to stroke her lips with a finger. "Christine?"

"What?"

"Would you care to—share the viewport with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

He stood up and held out his hand to her. She took it, pulling herself up by it. After disposing of the remains of the meal, the couple made their way over to the viewport across the room. They stood there looking out at space going by, his arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder.

One of her hands rested over his, their fingers entwining. Not long afterward, she felt his lips brush her left ear. Some time passed as they stood together, not speaking. The perfection of the feelings they shared and the warm closeness of the other did not need to be improved upon, but somehow Spock did exactly that...at least as far as Christine was concerned.

"Christine?" His arm tightened around her.

"Mmm?" Her grip on his hand followed suit.

"It would—please me if you would do me the...honor of—becoming my wife."

"Spock, are you proposing to me?" Her voice was a mixture of happiness and incredulity.

"I believe that is what I said. Now what is your answer?"

"Yes, beloved. A thousand times, yes!" she declared, once his sincerity sunk in.

"Once will be sufficient." Spock sounded as he always had, except that this time, there was an undercurrent of deep feeling. "We will make the necessary arrangements with the Captain at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, we shall continue to act professionally, except when we are alone." He released Christine, then they faced each other as he raised a hand to her face, but simply touched her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes.

"When...did you want us to bond?"

"Shortly before we speak with the Captain. For the moment, I only desire one thing."

"And what do you desire?"

"To be alone with you."

With that, he raised her chin and bent his head. Their lips touched, parted, then touched again, warmed and clung as the kiss deepened and the two made up (and not only for the last seven weeks) with a vengeance. Upon releasing her, the Vulcan literally swept his intended off her feet and into his arms as though she weighed nothing.

Her arms locked around his neck as they headed for the door of the Officers' Lounge. They managed to reach the turbo-lift down at the end of the corridor without running into anyone by taking a lesser-known shortcut. She asked to whose quarters they were going.

"Mine," he said. "Is that acceptable?" 

"Anywhere is acceptable, as long as you're there."

When they reached his quarters, Spock told his companion his door code and she recited it. The doors swished open and they stepped inside, the door locking behind them at his command. Spock didn't lock his door unless he wanted privacy—and at this point, he definitely did. Christine asked if there was any special way they were supposed to dress for the official bonding; Spock shook his head.

"Privacy and a receptive mind are all that is necessary."

They sat down on his bed after he set her on her feet and he raised a hand to the meld points on her face, concentrating intensely. He entered her mind slowly, carefully, only gradually lowering his shields...and then she embraced his consciousness with warmth and love, both surprised and pleased upon feeling the same in return—though it was tempered with caution and even some fear.

_Spock, beloved, there is nothing to be afraid of. I would rather hurt myself than you,_ she thought to him, so tenderly that it brought unbidden tears to his eyes. And I will do all in my power to make you happy.

_Christine, what did I do to deserve you?_

_You were you, the person you are. That's what I fell in love with—and what I'll always love._

_Even after the way I have treated you?_

_As I said, you were being you, trying to be as Vulcan as possible. It hurt, but I understood that. You are not—never could be—a cruel person._

_But it could not have been easy for you._

_I knew it wasn't a personal slight, and that helped. Now, can we get on with the bonding? _

_Yes, of course. I...simply needed to know your views on our situation. _His mind-voice was faintly apologetic, but in the next moment, he got down to the business at hand.

_Never and always, touching and touched. From this day forward, our minds and hearts—our very lives—will be as one. I will cherish thee, Christine, my chosen wife and bondmate, as well as any children we may have, with every beat of my heart, for now and as long as we both shall live._

_As I will cherish thee, Spock, my chosen husband and bondmate, as well as any children we may have, with every beat of my heart, for now and as long as we both shall live._

He brought them out of the meld which established the bond as carefully and gradually as he had entered it, lowering his hand to clasp one of hers, and his soft eyes glowed as they looked deeply into hers.

"Spock, that was incredible," Christine said once she found her voice again.

"Bonding is both mental and physical," he told her. "That is the main reason Vulcan marriages are so solid and long-lasting."

"Just as ours will be," she declared. "Especially if I have any say in the matter."

"It will be," he assured her. "Because _I_ have a say in the matter."

It was then that their eyes met and they fell silent, the look they exchanged saying without words what else they both wanted. The kisses resumed, and she felt his fingers take her hair down. The pins and headband dropped noiselessly to the carpeted floor. He stroked the back of her neck, making her tremble even as his lips found her throat. A short time later, she held his head close to her, stroking his silky hair. She felt him smile, but stopped him before anything else happened.

"Spock, I can't let you have all the fun. You must let me have some, too."

"Is that an order?" the Vulcan wondered upon lifting his head to meet her eyes.

"No. It is a request." She kissed his nose; Spock trembled and squirmed at his companion's touch. "Sorry, love."

"Do not...apologize. Your actions are most—pleasant."

"Then you want me to continue?" He was unable to speak; he could only nod. "As you wish."

After a time, he maneuvered her down beside him on the bed and held her. "Christine, you are an artist." He gave her a smile which she had never thought to see from him.

"If I am, it is because of you." She cradled her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair.

"Then by all means, demonstrate what you have learned from me." He drew her closer and kissed her deeply.

"I love you," she purred against his lips before proceeding to fulfill his request.


	4. Chapter 7, 8 & 9

**seven**

The world seemed different when they reported for their respective duty shifts the following day. Neither could have said just how; they only knew that it had been a long time since either had felt such contentment. If, indeed, they ever had. In fact, they acted like they had always been together, kissing goodbye at Spock's cabin door (inside, of course) before he left to go on duty since his shift began at 0600. Hers wasn't until 0630.

The warmth and love in his soft brown eyes was something Christine never thought she would ever see as his hand lingered on her cheek before his departure. Her hand covered his for a moment, and she put all her heart into her eyes. He would have been content simply to look at her and feel her love for hours to come—and to share his own with her. But both knew that there was a time for love and a time for duty. The time had come for duty.

Before he left, however, the Vulcan told Christine he would meet her outside Sickbay at 1230 hours for lunch and they would eat after discussing wedding arrangements with Kirk. She left five minutes after he did, making sure the corridor was clear before stepping out. After all, she had to remember whose quarters she was in. The last thing she intended to do was embarrass either Spock or herself in front of the crew. Their private lives were no one's business but their own...and perhaps that of their closest friends—at the proper time.

Kirk's own duty shift had begun at 0400 and consequently, he had gotten off-duty earlier. Spock had known this fact, which was the reason he had arranged a meeting at 1235 hours. The Vulcan had not said why he wanted to see him, but the Captain knew Spock well enough to make a pretty accurate guess. His friend had sounded happier and more fulfilled than Kirk had ever known him to be. Only Christine could be responsible for that, and he blessed her for it. For Spock's sake, he hoped it never changed.

Kirk arrived back at his own quarters at 1215. His stomach growled since it was lunchtime, but he planned to have something after his appointment with Spock (and Christine, if his hunch was right). The Captain seated himself behind his desk to wait for them, picking up the topmost report to read from the pile sitting there. By an odd coincidence, it was Spock's. It was seven pages long, so Kirk was about a third of the way through when his buzzer sounded.

He knew without looking at his desk chrono that it was 1235 hours and that it was Spock at the door. The Vulcan's inborn time sense made him one of the few crewmembers who had never been late for duty. In fact, Spock was usually on the Bridge before he was—that is, when they had the same shift.

"Come," Kirk said.

He smiled when the Vulcan and a blushing Christine stepped in. Spock didn't touch her in the Captain's presence, simply guided her to the single chair in front of Kirk's desk while he stood behind her, hands on the back of the chair. "I understand there was something you wanted to discuss with me," the Captain remarked after a few moments of tense silence.

He looked at Christine's bowed head, lowered eyes and flushed cheeks before looking up at his Vulcan friend. Their eyes locked for a time before Kirk clasped his hands in front of him on the desk.

"Yes, Captain," Spock confirmed.

"What can I do for you?" 

"We have come to discuss arrangements for a shipboard wedding," the First Officer elaborated even as his cheeks tinged with color, and Kirk saw a glowing happiness in his dark eyes.

"A shipboard wedding? Your shipboard wedding?" 

Spock could only nod.

"Then I can only assume that your private talk went well." He smiled at the happy, blushing couple before him, their love almost a tangible thing. "When would you like to have it?"

This time Christine responded, finally finding her voice. "At your earliest convenience."

Kirk looked at his chrono, then his latest command orders. "It's stardate 7415 right now, and we don't have any assignments until 7423.4, so any time between now and then is fine with me. Have you bonded yet?"

"Last night," Christine told him.

Spock remained silent after his initial statements, simply nodding in agreement as she spoke.

"How about arranging the wedding for stardate 7421? I'm sure you'll need time to prepare."

"We just want a simple, private ceremony," the female physician said.

Kirk looked to Spock for confirmation and got it. The Captain sighed and wrote on his datapad. "All right, 7421 it is. What time would you like to have it?"

"Whenever we're all off-duty that day," came the reply from the woman before him.

Kirk noted that Spock's hands were on Christine's shoulders now, but neither of the couple was conscious of it. In deference to their privacy, he remained silent as he checked the duty roster.

"On stardate 7421, Spock and I get off at 1400, you and Bones at 1500 and Uhura at 1600. How about making it at 1930 hours to give everyone time to get ready?"

Spock and Christine looked at each other, mentally communicating, then back at Kirk. "That's fine," she pronounced.

"Got it." Kirk wrote it down. "Now where did you want to have it? It would be more private here, and less likely to be crashed, but we can have it in the Chapel if you prefer."

"'Crashed'?" Spock asked with a frown.

"When people come who weren't invited," Christine explained. "And I'm sure you don't want that. Having it in the Chapel is fine as long as we play our cards right."

Kirk and Spock exchanged glances; the Vulcan shook his head. "All right, let me read back what I have—you two want to get married on stardate 7421 at 1930 hours in the ship's Chapel. Have either of you told Bones or Uhura yet? I can't be your 'best man' since I'm to perform the ceremony, Spock, so I'm sure McCoy would be only too happy to oblige you if you ask him...and Uhura could be your maid of honor, Miss Chapel...Christine."

"I'll ask her the next time I see her," the Doctor confirmed.

"Anything else you need to discuss, Spock?"

"No, Jim," came the quiet answer.

"What about your parents...and Christine's?"

Christine spoke before Spock could draw breath for a reply. "We'll be sending them stargrams."

"What about the Vulcan wedding? Will you be having one?" 

Spock looked dubious. "That depends on whether or not T'Pau will be willing to perform the ceremony. I will suggest that my father speak to her on our behalf. I am not—optimistic, but we will...hope for the best." He looked at Christine; she nodded and smiled.

"You'd still be legally married even if you didn't have one," Kirk pointed out.

Spock nodded, but his eyes were downcast. Both Kirk and Christine looked at him with concern, knowing the Vulcan wouldn't feel complete without the Vulcan wedding ceremony. At the same time, both knew that it was doubtful whether or not T'Pau, the matriarch of Spock's clan, would be willing to officiate. Her position in his family and on the Vulcan Science Council gave her the power to perform Clan marriages.

But she was not fond of Humans at the best of times, and the fact that Sarek had married one was bad enough without Spock bringing another into their revered family. (Sarek and Spock were descendants of the Vulcan philosopher Surak by way of his eldest child and daughter, T'Sara. T'Pau was a descendant by way of his son and youngest child, Selak.)

McCoy's deception, which had saved Kirk's life at Spock's aborted wedding some years ago, didn't sit well with her, either. Still, she was a stickler for tradition, so there was a slim possibility she would do it—if only for that reason. Spock wanted to honor the traditions of his Vulcan ancestors, Kirk knew that, but couldn't if T'Pau refused to marry him and Christine.

That way, if he didn't honor tradition, it would be more her fault than his. Kirk hoped that at least he would be allowed to attend. It was technically Spock's right to have at least one friend there, but knowing T'Pau, there was no guarantee of that, so Kirk wasn't holding his breath. All they could do was wait until the Vulcan heard back from his parents.

It was as much as she could endure, having just two Humans there—himself and Christine...without trying to have McCoy, Uhura or Amanda. That would make five, given the dubious possibility that T'Pau would agree to it. They'd be lucky if Kirk was allowed there...and even then, probably only in deference to Sarek and the fact that it was Spock's right by law.

"I will write my parents tonight and explain the situation," Spock said in a controlled voice. "We can only—hope...for a favorable outcome. I will let you know what happens."

He looked from Kirk to Christine. "Come, Christine." She stood up and moved next to him, crossing her fingers with his. "We are going to lunch, Jim," the Vulcan informed Kirk. "Would you care to join us? I am assuming you have not eaten yet."

Kirk shook his head with a smile. "No, I haven't—and yes, I would be delighted to join you." He shot a glance at Christine. "That is, if Christine doesn't mind sharing you."

The Doctor shook her head, though her smile was a bit forced. Kirk sensed that she was giving in for Spock's sake, preferring to have been alone with him. But with Kirk joining them (and possibly McCoy or Uhura, should either come to the Officers' Lounge and spot them), that hope would not be realized—at least not for the next hour or two.

"Then let's get going. I'm famished!" The Captain followed the newly bonded and engaged couple out the door, down the corridor and into a turbolift which would take them to the Officers' Lounge and their lunch on Deck 3.

The lunch passed pleasantly, the three talking about whatever came into their heads, somehow managing to eat and drink in between all the discussion. The repast lasted about an hour, after which Spock and Christine excused themselves, silencing any questions in the Captain's mind as to what they would be doing next. The couple left the Officers' Lounge after bidding Kirk a pleasant farewell, and returned to duty. They were both off by 1430, returning to Spock's quarters after that.

Upon their return, they spent the evening curled up on his couch, alternating between listening to her favorite music and his until 1900, her head on his shoulder and his arms gently but securely around her waist, his cheek resting on the top of her head. Christine stole a look at the chrono Spock kept in his quarters for his Human shipmates, noting that it was 1905 hours. Time for her to leave, even as much as she wanted to stay.

She reluctantly communicated this to Spock through their newly completed bond, sensing that he was equally reluctant to see her go—but at the same time, knew she had to. "It's been a most enjoyable evening, Spock, but I think I'd better go back to my quarters. I need to shower and get some sleep because the new rotation begins tomorrow and I have the Gamma shift, from 2400 to 0800."

He released her and she stood up; he joined her a moment later. "I go on Alpha shift duty from 0800 to 1600. As soon as you have had some sleep, we can discuss a future meeting. Is that acceptable to you?"

She did not reply, but he felt her answer in his mind and smiled as they moved toward the door. When they reached it, she moved into his arms again and the couple shared a lingering kiss. Neither had any idea how long they stood there, and neither cared. The nearness of the other was all that mattered. Their evening together had been idyllic, a virtually perfect time—but their idyll would soon be shattered almost beyond repair...and by something which only a miracle of love could save.

It began two days later when Christine's conscience got the better of her and she decided to tell Spock the guilty secret she had carried for two months: that they had been watched their first night together on Sapphira VII and that she had known about it. What's more, she had known about it and hadn't told him. Whatever the repercussions might be from her revelation, they could be far worse if it had come out after their marriage.

A part of her said she was a fool to jeopardize her relationship with Spock and his love for her, something she had waited for for so long. But another part said that she couldn't go into marriage with him with a lie standing between them. They met in Spock's quarters after each had gotten off-duty, about 1900 hours. All she had told him was that there was something very important that he had to know before they could be married.

_Please, God, help him to understand why I did it. Don't let him hate me. I couldn't bear it._

Of course, she couldn't blame him if he did. He was so scrupulously honest that deception in any form was anathema to him—and for the woman he planned to marry, his bondmate, to betray him like this... Christine felt sure that that was how Spock would see it—that she was no better than T'Pring. The thought sickened her but she had to prepare herself for the possibility, however abhorrent.

Even the thought that she might lose him was too painful to contemplate, but it was a risk she had to take. He might even talk of breaking their bond...and from what she'd heard, only a Vulcan Healer or the death of one of the partners could break a Vulcan matrimonial bond.

The break was often so traumatic that it took years to recover from (if, indeed, the parties ever did)...and some simply willed themselves to die. She couldn't bear the thought of Spock being driven to that—and because of her! But there was no way around it. The truth had to come out...and what happened, happened.

The evening started out well enough; they had greeted each other with both a kiss and the crossing of fingers—something still new to her (they had only done it for three days), but if her fears were realized, something at which she wouldn't have a chance to become proficient. Spock would put her out of his life, his heart, everything...and she would never be able to face him again, knowing that she only had herself to blame for destroying the one thing she valued above all others: Spock's love, trust, and belief in her.

After T'Pring's betrayal, the Vulcan had been afraid to allow himself to trust a woman enough to develop romantic feelings for her. It was only because eight years had gone by, time in which Spock had learned to trust and believe in Christine, that he had come to love her. This revelation could set things right back at square one—if, indeed, he ever learned to trust her again.

"You said there was something very important you needed to tell me before we could be married," Spock reminded her, reaching to squeeze Christine's hand, then hold it as they sat next to each other on his bed. "I can sense that it is something which has troubled you for a long time. Please tell me what it is."

Christine sighed sadly, knowing that they could change from lovers to strangers in the space of a heartbeat she told him what she had to tell him, but the choice had been taken from her. She could only hope for the best, even as she expected the worst.

"Yes. It concerns our first night on Sapphira VII. Sapphira mentioned to me that all newcomers needed to 'prove' themselves, as it were."

"In what way?" 

"We were...observed that first night." She held her breath without realizing she was doing it.

"And you knew about it," he concluded. "Why did you not tell me?" His tone became harsh and accusing despite his best efforts, and his face hardened.

"It would only have distressed you. I did what I thought best—for your sake."

Spock's eyes seemed to stab black daggers of ice right through her. He released her hand and didn't touch her again. "Was it truly for my sake, or because you believed I would not have...accompanied you the night of the orgy if you had?"

Anger tinged Christine's voice as she replied, her eyes flashing blue fire. "That had nothing to do with it. I only wanted to make things as easy as possible for you."

His expression didn't change. "Damn it, Spock, you must know that whatever I did there was to protect you, not for my own benefit! If I was that self-serving, I would never have let you go to Sapphira, not for anything." Now she was hurt as well as angry.

"That does not change the fact that you deceived me...and I trusted you." This time, he was the one who sounded hurt. "Yes, it probably would have—distressed me, as you say, but I still would have preferred to know. You should know that, since you profess to know me so well."

"All right." Christine controlled herself with effort since tears were close, and she didn't want to cry in front of Spock if she could help it. "Suppose I had told you. Would things have turned out any differently?"

"It is over and behind us now, so I can only speculate, but no, I doubt I would have acted differently. After all, I am...fairly certain that the Sapphirans could not have told the difference between what we did and the genuine article."

"Spock, listen to yourself. Your suggestion is as much a deception as what I did. At least give me credit for admitting what I did! And let me ask you this—would you have admitted deceiving me if our positions were reversed?"

The Vulcan seemed taken aback for a moment, then stiffened. "That is irrelevant, for I would not—and could not—deceive you, no matter what you have done to me."

"My God, you make it sound like I wanted to do it! If you're so willing to condemn me without a trial, be so self-righteous and judgmental, then you're not the man I thought you were. Certainly not the man I fell in love with."

Spock winced at that, then stiffened again. "My conduct has no bearing on yours."

"In other words, you can do as you please and call it logical, but if a Human does the same thing, they're irrational, illogical...even unreasonable."

He gave her a look which could have frozen her where she sat, but Christine didn't  
—couldn't—flinch. "That was uncalled for, Christine." This time, he sounded angry...coldly, frigidly angry.

"And what you said was?" she shot back.

There was an uncomfortable, even strained, silence between the two. Her heart ached at the pain she felt from him along with his anger, knowing that she had hurt him, and wept inside for the death of not only her dreams, but his own.

Forgive me, my love, she entreated as she fought back tears. Whatever you may think of me now, believe that I love you. I always have and I always will. Out loud, she asked, "Do you want to call off the wedding? It's still only us, the Captain, Dr. McCoy and Nyota who know. We haven't even written our parents yet."

"I believe that would be the most logical course of action." His voice was tightly controlled.

Logical? she almost snorted. Not the best, but most 'logical' course! Sometimes I wonder what I ever saw in him, she thought bitterly. No matter how painful it is for him, he consistently denies his feelings—and now, simply because of one mistake, he's throwing all our dreams away in the name of logic!

Out loud, she merely said, "If that's what you think best, Spock, I won't stand in your way. But what of our bonding? We can't simply break it."

His pain seemed to increase as she said it, but his face was an expressionless mask. "You are right, but I must meditate before I can give you an answer as to what to do. Please leave me now. I have much to consider, as have you."

"All right. Contact me when you've reached a decision."

Spock nodded stiffly and turned away, his action prompting tears of both anger and hatred in Christine's eyes—directed more at herself than Spock. She couldn't blame him for feeling as he did, knowing she would probably feel the same way in his place...but at least _she _would have given him a chance to rectify things!

He was simply breaking off their relationship and calling off their wedding as though there had never been anything between them. It was as if he wanted to erase all traces of its ever having existed—but their bonding couldn't be gotten rid of that easily. Each knew how the other really felt despite their outward reaction and while the bond still existed, there was hope. Meanwhile, they had to be apart to get their thoughts together...and perhaps discuss it with their friends—carry on as best they could.

She stole one last look at Spock before heading out. He was lying on his left side on his bed, his back to her and his shoulders shaking slightly. He certainly wasn't meditating, so was it possible that he was...crying?

_Spock?_ she called hesitantly.

_Go! I wish to be alone,_ he ordered.

_Are you all right? Tell me you're all right and I'll go._

_I will be all right. Now leave me!_

Christine still didn't want to go, but had been left with no choice, so she did--thankful she didn't run into anyone between Spock's quarters and her own. Upon arrival, she showered and changed into her nightgown, then slid into bed and buried her face in her pillow to cry herself to sleep.

**eight**

Over the ensuing days, each tried to conceal the fact that they had had a quarrel and called off their planned marriage. But Spock's unusual (even for him) moodiness and snappish replies to questions, even though he always apologized, and Christine's coming into work exhausted and red-eyed could not help but indicate to their friends that something was terribly wrong between them.

Neither was inclined to discuss what had happened (possibly attempting to keep the pain at arm's length), but the incident would have to be addressed sooner or later. And the way the two acted when in proximity to each other—either stiffly polite or each acting like the other wasn't there—was a cry for help, whether the parties involved would admit it or not.

Most tragic of all was the fact they still loved each other. They needed to sit down and talk again, but how could it possibly be brought about when the pair wouldn't stay in the same room together for more than five minutes at a stretch?

Kirk, McCoy and Uhura finally got together and discussed ways to help straighten things out between their friends and shipmates.

First, the couple had to admit they needed help and allow their friends to supply that help...but knowing how stubborn each was, that wasn't going to be easy. The first (and most difficult) step was going to be approaching Spock, discussing it with him and getting the Vulcan to tell Kirk what was wrong. After that, possibly, they could discuss it with McCoy, who was not only their friend, colleague and a top-flight surgeon, but an expert in psychology.

They left it to Uhura to approach Christine, but McCoy had told the Communications Officer to contact him in case of necessity. The couple's personal problems hadn't affected their efficiency (yet), but if left unchecked, they soon would. That would do neither Spock, Christine, nor the _Enterprise_ crew any good, so the sooner something was done, the better.

Kirk decided to try to talk to Spock once they had gotten off-duty on stardate 7419, two days before the planned wedding. With luck, the marriage could still take place on schedule, but first, both of the concerned parties had to have some sense knocked into them. Literally, if verbal persuasion didn't work.

That night, the Captain approached his Vulcan friend in the latter's quarters. Both wore civilian clothes off-duty this particular day. Kirk's outfit was an off-white, long-sleeved embroidered shirt with black pants and matching socks with earthtone sandals. Spock wore a long black meditation robe with full sleeves and a rope-like belt. He had removed his boots and wore only socks on his feet. The Vulcan sat on his bed with his harp in his lap, his long, slender fingers playing the most beautiful yet melancholy song Kirk had ever heard.

"Feeling sad about something—or someone, Spock?" Kirk asked as he approached, voice gentle and kind.

The reply was tightly controlled. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Come off it, Spock. This is me, Jim...your friend. If you're hurting over something, let me help."

"I am fine. Nothing is wrong."

Spock's eyes were cold and hard, yet held more pain and anguish in their dark depths than Kirk had imagined possible. His friend was deeply hurt over something and he vowed to find out why—and who had caused it.

This time, Kirk's face hardened, though his voice was still gentle. "As Bones would say, 'In a pig's eye.' Now what's happened? You've got to get it off your chest or else it will destroy you. What kind of friend would I be if I let that happen when I was able to effect help?"

Spock sighed, sensing his friend's sincerity and concern, needing to talk in spite of his reluctance to do so. He set his harp aside and bowed his head, motioning Kirk to come into the sleeping alcove and sit down next to him on his bed.

"Very well, Jim, if you insist. It has to do with some-thing Christine told me three days ago. Something having to do with our...mission together on Sapphira VII two months ago."

"What about it?" 

Spock took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he stood up and stepped over to the nearby food synthesizer to call up a glass of _tulac _for himself and Altair water for Kirk. He handed the Altair water to Kirk and took a swallow of _tulac_, holding the glass tightly—trying to gather strength to talk, Kirk surmised.

The Vulcan had always had trouble discussing private things, even with Kirk, much less Christine or McCoy...and Kirk's hunch had been right. It had been something she had said which was causing Spock such pain. In the end, it would probably be necessary to have all five of them sit down together in order to hammer out a solution to the problem now facing them. In the meantime, however, it was just the two of them—Jim and Spock. Colleagues, friends, even brothers in all but blood.

"She...told me that the Sapphiran leader had told her that all newcomers to the planet were to be—observed their first night together."

Kirk's eyes widened. "You didn't know this before?" 

Spock shook his head. "No. Christine claimed she had not told me because she knew it would distress me."

"And would it have, if she'd told you?" The Captain's tone was neutral.

"Yes, but I would have...felt better in the long run, knowing, instead of having it kept from me."

"Sounds like she had a good reason. From what little I know of her, Christine doesn't seem to be the kind of person who would deliberately lie."

"That is not the point, Jim," the Vulcan bit out. "The point is, she deceived me, if only by silence, as T'Pring did—and I trusted her."

Spock's eyes closed in pain. For which woman, Kirk couldn't have said for sure, but his money was on Christine, since Spock loved her. The tie to T'Pring had been a bonding performed out of duty to his father and Vulcan heritage. He had not cared for her any more than she had for him...and it hadn't improved matters when she had forced Spock to fight Kirk. Nor had Spock's anguish when he thought he'd killed his commander and closest friend. The Captain was sure that neither he nor Spock would ever forgive T'Pring for that, but that was irrelevant now.

"Spock, I can't blame you for being upset. I would be, too, in your place...but unlike T'Pring, you've got to know that Christine loves you. She would do anything short of murder to protect you."

Spock took another swallow of _tulac_, then a deep breath. "What kind of love is it that believes it acceptable to deceive the beloved? And what if I did not wish to be protected?"

Kirk sighed deeply and took a swig of Altair water. "Spock, when you love someone and you see that your loved one is in danger of any kind, your natural instinct is to want to protect her, keep her from any and all harm. I can't speak from experience, of course, but as far as I can tell, it's the same way with women.

"Even what you told me about what happened when your mother came to you and begged you to relinquish command of the ship in order to give blood to save your father proves my point. She acted as she did because Sarek was in danger of losing his life and because she loved him, she felt she had to take steps to prevent that...seeing you as the only means of saving him.

"I believe that is also why Christine did what she did. She saw it as the only way to keep you from harm. I know how honest you are, how much you abhor deception, but you can't let one mistake stand between you like this. If she'd done it before, that would be one thing, but whatever Christine has done, it's usually been out of love for you. She's sacrificed her own happiness and denied her feelings time and again for the sake of preserving yours and sparing you embarrassment. That should count for something."

"But if she can deceive me once, how can I let myself believe that she will not do it again?"

"You can't...but it's senseless to throw away your only chance for happiness and the truest love you've ever had from a woman simply because of one unfortunate incident. I know how happy you've been since the two of you have been together, Spock. I don't want to see that end—especially not over a trivial thing like this.

"True love is far too rare, much too precious to throw away on a whim. You must not allow her to slip through your fingers or else you could end up regretting it for the rest of your life. I can't bear to see you hurt any more. Don't do this to yourself...or to her, my friend. Both of you have suffered enough."

By this time, the Vulcan felt unbidden tears mist his eyes, knowing that Jim was right—but how could he ever make amends for the way he had hurt Christine? He had to try or else he could lose her forever. However much her deception had hurt, it would be infinitely more painful to be without her after having known and shared her love—and given her his own.

"But how can I expect her to...take me back after the way I have—doubted her?" 

"You've got to trust in her love for you. Love is a great motivation for forgiveness. Now is your wedding still on?"

Spock smiled slightly. "I...would like to believe so, but that will depend on the outcome of my next discussion with her."

"In that case, you would do well to speak to her as soon as you see her again, whatever you have to do to accomplish it."

Kirk looked up and saw both cautious hope and fear in his Vulcan friend's dark eyes. "If it would make you feel better, I could be nearby—or both Bones and I could be there, if you don't mind."

The Vulcan nodded in gratitude. "That would be...appreciated, Jim. I may need your help—or that of the Doctor."

"We'll be there." Kirk smiled warmly. "Just say when."

In the next moment, the two looked at each other and the Captain opened his arms to offer his Vulcan friend a haven of security and unconditional love. In the latter's present state of mind, such an offer was impossible to resist. The arms around Spock were warm, strong and loving, the voice speaking to him affectionate and soothing. So much so that he again felt tears in his eyes and had no desire to hold them back.

Kirk was both surprised and pleased to discover his friend softly sobbing, arms awkwardly circling his waist in a tight hug. He stroked the Vulcan's silky dark hair with one hand as Spock's head rested on his shoulder. The Human's other arm was securely around the latter's slender waist. Even as Kirk crooned soothing words, he thought, _Oh, my friend, how could you put yourself through such pain? Especially when it was all so needless?_

Neither had any idea how much time had passed by the time they separated—and neither did they care. What mattered was that Spock had been unable to unburden himself and release his pain. The Captain could only hope that Uhura could get Chris-tine to do the same. Only then could she and Spock "kiss and make up", then get married as planned.

"Are you all right now, Spock?" Kirk asked once the Vulcan's arms loosened and he had lifted his head from his Human friend's shoulder.

The lean, austere face was tear-streaked and flushed, the brown eyes swollen and green-rimmed but dry. "Yes, Jim. You will never know how much you have helped me."

"That's what friends are for. Now are you ready to talk to Christine?"

Spock nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Then let's go see if we can find her."

The two men left Spock's quarters after the latter had freshened up, but found McCoy first and it was only after a heart-to-heart talk in the Doctor's office that the three sought out Christine and Uhura.

But Christine was having her own problems, not the least of which was the fact that her period was late—and she had always been as regular as clockwork. What if she was pregnant? That would be all she needed, with she and Spock virtually at each other's throats. Neither did she want him to feel obligated to marry her simply because of the baby, in the event her pregnancy test was positive.

If that happened, she would have to tell Spock. If she thought she were going through Hell now, what would happen if she didn't tell him he was going to be a father and he found out, would make her life a walk in the park by comparison. If it had happened, it would have to have been after their bonding in his quarters, the first and only time she and Spock had made love.

McCoy didn't know exactly what had happened to cause Spock and Christine to break up. If he knew Spock, it was over some trivial thing. One thing he did know, however, was that the First Officer and Assistant Chief Medical Officer still loved each other, despite their attempts to pretend otherwise. Should Christine actually be pregnant, the one thing which would thaw the Vulcan was the knowledge of his upcoming fatherhood.

The Doctor wished that he could be the one to tell Spock and see how the Vulcan reacted, but McCoy knew also that Christine would want to do it despite the bad feelings currently between herself and Spock. Whatever else Spock was, he would not walk away from his responsibilities.

Family was everything to Vulcans, second only to logic—so whatever problems had driven him and Christine apart, Spock would move Heaven and Earth (or Vulcan, in this case) to have his child at his side. Given Spock's own background, the child would probably be raised in a combination of Vulcan and Human philosophies...and hopefully with the mother of that child present as his wife.

**nine**

"Well, you've certainly done it now, Chris. I warned you that Spock might react like that." Uhura was pacing the floor in the living area of her quarters in front of a seated Christine.

Christine's tone was peevish. "Nyota, do me a favor and shut up. I know what I've done; I don't need a lecture. But I am worried about one thing."

"Such as?" 

"My period is late," came the reply.

Uhura's eyes widened like saucers. "Oh, my God. Do you think you might be pregnant?"

Christine shrugged. "Couldn't say. I haven't had the pregnancy test yet—but I've always been regular, so it's a distinct possibility...especially considering what happened the day of our bonding."

"What will you do if you are?" 

"Tell Spock. What else? I've got enough trouble as it is without inviting more by keeping it from him."

Uhura nodded, her lips twisted wryly. "I see your point."

"But even if I am, and I tell him, how do I know he'll even believe me—that he won't think it merely an attempt to get back into his good graces?"

Uhura scowled. "Spock should know better than to think that you would ever lie about a thing like that."

"Ordinarily, yes, but given the mood he's in right now, he's not about to listen to the voices of reason."

"Talk about being between the proverbial rock and a hard place," Uhura remarked. "We'll just have to keep our fingers crossed that the Captain will be able to talk some sense into him."

"I'm crossing my toes, too," came the deadpan reply.

A short time later, the women decided to go to the Officers' Lounge for something to eat. They had finished their meals and were just sitting and talking over cups of coffee, Christine's a steaming mug of vanilla cappuccino.

"I wish to God I'd told Spock about the observing at the outset, Nyota. It wasn't worth all the pain we've endured. If I'd told him the truth, we'd never have broken up. It was all my fault!"

"There's nothing you can do about it now, Chris, so there's no sense in browbeating yourself. You're also underestimating the Captain's silver tongue. If anybody can bring Spock back to his senses, he can."

"I never thought I'd say this," the other woman said as if her friend hadn't spoken. "But I pray to God I'm not pregnant. How would I ever break it to him? He'd never believe me. How can I convince him I'm for real?"

"Have him be present at the pregnancy test," Uhura suggested even as she heard the doors to the Officers' Lounge open and saw Kirk, Spock and McCoy heading their way. "At the moment, however, I suggest you think of another way—and do it fast."

Christine looked up, turning white as a sheet as she saw the three men coming toward them, Spock in the lead. "Oh, dear God. What do I do now?"

"He doesn't look upset, Chris. It's probably nothing."

"For Heaven's sake, Nyota, Spock rarely 'looks' upset! He's barely spoken to me the last three days, but now he's seeking me out. Why?"

"As I said earlier, the Captain's silver tongue. Too bad mine isn't. Otherwise, it would be you rushing to seek him out!" the Communications Officer threw back.

Christine made a face. "Thanks a lot. That was a big help. What did you intend to do for an encore?"

Uhura's face hardened. "What I should have done three days ago—knock you down and sit on you! Then knock your and Spock's heads together. Maybe then, enough rocks will be beaten out of them so that you and he will start thinking straight again, apologize to each other and get back together!"

The three men arrived at this point, and heard Uhura's tirade as well as Christine, shock written all over their faces—especially Spock's.

"Don't look at me like that," she scolded them. "You know I'm right. And now that we're all here, Mr. Spock, how about having a beautiful scene where you and Christine apologize for all the things you said to each other? Then you can declare that you never meant any of them, that it was your hurt talking. After that, you can kiss and make up so we can have that wedding we've all waited so long for."

Once Spock recovered from the shock of what Uhura had said, he spoke as though he hadn't heard a word. The only person he seemed conscious of was Christine. "Christine, I must speak to you."

Christine hid her fear as best she could as she looked up to meet his eyes. "Yes, Spock, what is it?"

"I wish to apologize," he told her softly. "I had no right to judge you so harshly. You were correct to do as you did to protect me. Unfortunately, I did not realize this until Jim reminded me that you did everything out of love."

Christine allowed tenderness to show in her voice. "I could have told you that. In fact, I did—but you were too busy being properly outraged."

"Shows that even a Vulcan can learn something." McCoy, the next to find his voice, grinned wickedly.

"Bones..." Kirk was the last, and his voice was a warning.

The Doctor gave the Captain an injured look, but kept quiet. A stage-whisper reinforced it.

"There's a reconciliation in progress here. Don't screw it up."

"May I sit down?" the Vulcan asked.

Christine smiled and nodded; Kirk and McCoy slid in next to Uhura. Every once in a while the couple squeezed each other's hands, but otherwise simply held hands where the others couldn't see.

_Please forgive me, _Spock apologized...the first thing he'd said through the bond for the past three days.

_Of course, my love,_ she returned.

_Will you—take me back, and do you...still wish to marry me? _His mind-voice was laced with uncertainty.

_Silly Vulcan—of course I do! _Her 'voice' was affectionately exasperated. She wanted to kiss him, but couldn't with their audience. _I wish we were alone, so I could show you how much._

Spock projected unspoken love as he replied. _I know, but it will happen soon enough. Be strong, m'chejan. _They exchanged a private smile, then another hand-squeezing when they thought their friends weren't looking.

_M'chejan? You never called me that before,_ Christine pointed out, both happy and incredulous at his action. _What does it mean?_

_We were never bonded before. I have never...loved like this before._

Spock's mind-voice was laced with wonder at the revelation, and an even greater wonder swept over him at the knowledge. For a long time, the Vulcan had been unsure if he were even capable of it. Now that he knew otherwise, he credited his friends (particularly Kirk) and Christine for triggering the virtually untapped well of love and devotion deep inside his hybrid heart.

For that, he would be forever grateful to them—and her. He was truly "lucky" to have found friends like Jim and McCoy, a bondmate such as Christine, and to have been granted a mother like Amanda. Surely no other being in the Galaxy had been so blessed.

His lack of mental response went on so long that Christine became concerned. _Spock, I asked you a question._ Her manner was quiet and loving, if a tad impatient.

The Vulcan looked up with tenderness and regret in his eyes. _Forgive me, Christine. I was...distracted._

Her smile showed that he had been forgiven.

_In answer to your question, 'm'chejan' is a Vulcan term of endearment, meaning 'my chosen'. It is how my father has referred to Mother, usually when they believed I was not around to overhear. If you like, I will always call you that, too._

_Only if you want to, Spock._

_I want to._ His consciousness embraced hers.

They had forgotten about their friends some time ago and the three knew it—but far from being insulted, they understood and made themselves scarce in order to give their friends privacy. At least scarce to the point of moving across the room, occasionally stealing glances at their favorite couple.

The pair looked at each other and smiled again, uncaring if their friends (or anyone else) saw them. Their three days apart had been three days too long, and would never happen again if they could help it. It was too painful. Spock lifted Christine's hand to his lips and kissed it. Only then did the two come back to reality, raising their heads to look up and find their friends gone.

"Oh, my God." Christine spoke out loud for the first time in what seemed like ages. "I forgot all about Nyota and the others. Are they still here?"

Spock spotted the three across the room, within sight but not earshot. Kirk smiled and waved when their eyes met; the Vulcan nodded and gave a half-smile in return.

"They are seated across the room."

"We've got to apologize to them. Heaven only knows what they must think!" 

Spock's voice was quiet but firm. "I am sure they understand, Christine. They could not be our friends and not understand."

Christine sighed, but had to agree. "You're right, of course. How silly of me. Even so, we've still got to tell them that the wedding is on again."

This time Spock mirrored his bondmate's actions. "Then we shall do so."

The couple got up and walked across the room to their friends, openly holding hands, but not even McCoy could bring himself to tease them. He was too happy and relieved that things had worked out. The trio smiled in greeting; the pair responded in kind.

"Jim, I now believe it is safe to say that the wedding is 'on' again, as Christine puts it."

Kirk smiled again. "That's wonderful, Spock. I'm happy for you both. You deserve each other." This was meant in the nicest of ways, however, and the couple knew it.

"Yeah, what he said," the Doctor concurred, even as Uhura smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Thank you, Jim, Doctor, Miss Uhura." The Vulcan then focused his attention on McCoy. "Doctor, I would be...honored if you would stand with me as my 'best man', since the Captain is to perform the wedding."

"And I would be honored to accept, Spock." The Doctor's reply held all the affection for the Vulcan which McCoy normally kept hidden.

Christine looked at Uhura, but the dark woman spoke before her friend could. "Before you ask, Chris, I would be happy to be your maid of honor, but now we've got to get busy; there's only two days before the wedding!" Everyone had to agree, and knew they would be busy probably right up to the time of the ceremony—but it would be worth every minute.

"You two, write stargrams to your parents right now," Kirk told them. "That's an order!"

Both Spock and Christine replied, "Yes, sir!" and departed.

Kirk then looked at the others and said, "We'd better get to bed now, people. We've got a lot of work to do and not a hell of a lot of time to do it in!"

Neither McCoy nor Uhura argued the point; they simply followed the Captain out after the bridal couple-to-be had left. All went to their quarters for a much-needed rest, for there wasn't going to be much time for that in the next couple of days...not if they intended to pull the wedding off as planned!


	5. Chapter 10, 11 & 12

**ten**

It was easiest for Christine to write her parents that she was to be married, even though she would be marrying an extraterrestrial--or at least a half-extraterrestrial. They could not be called truly bigoted, but would have preferred that she marry a Human or Humanoid. However, they would accept virtually anyone as a son-in-law if it could be demonstrated that the man loved her and she was happy with him.

If only for that reason, she was sure they would accept Spock. Her mother had known she was in love with him from the beginning...as soon as Christine had realized it herself. Her father had been more skeptical, but in the end even he had come around, and it had helped her immensely to be able to unburden herself to them when she was unable to talk to Uhura. Both had advised her not to pressure him, be as professional as possible and not "wear her heart on her sleeve".

She had done her best to comply, but it took a lot out of her to pretend that she didn't care, to act professionally detached in a situation involving Spock. For Christine, it would have been easier to have an operation without anesthesia. It was easy for them to say those things...they weren't in her situation. She recalled what her mother had told her of how the courtship with her father had been, and her feelings upon realizing she was in love. Christine knew she was experiencing many of the same things her mother had.

But Ann Chapel had not had to deal with a Vulcan--someone who had emotions (very strong emotions), but denied them at every turn, rejecting any and all female companionship except  
on a professional basis. Christine knew and figured out why after going over the results of the physical McCoy had given Spock shortly before the aborted wedding on Vulcan, but that didn't make it any easier to endure her feelings or Spock's treatment of her.

Still, Spock was not a cruel person; he was simply following what he had been taught from childhood. For that reason, among others, she couldn't blame him for keeping her at a distance. It wasn't until well into the Sapphiran mission that she found out how Spock truly felt toward her. After the mission, he could no longer pretend not to care. From that point on, they had been happy...with the exception of a few nights ago--and their estrangement had been her fault, not his.

It was Spock who brought her back to reality. They had returned briefly to their respective quarters to get their writing materials, then met in the Rec Room to write the stargrams to their parents, sitting in a booth near a large viewport. Scratch paper and Starfleet stationery lay before them and styli were in their right hands.

"Christine, how far are you?"

She looked up and smiled sheepishly. "No further than I was ten minutes ago, I'm afraid."

He frowned. "We do not have a lot of time, Christine. It is illogical to waste it." His tone was gently scolding.

"I know. I was just thinking."

"About what?" This time he looked up after writing something.

"About all we've had to endure to get this far."

He raised an eyebrow and frowned again; she smiled and covered his free hand with her own after laying down her stylus. "Yes, I know, Spock. We've got to get the stargrams written. Don't worry; we will."

She withdrew her hand after answering his unspoken statement, picked up the stylus again and began writing with a vengeance. Their contact, both physical and mental, had enabled her to formulate what she'd wanted to say to her parents. She hoped Spock would be able to write now, too--and after a moment of sitting and frowning thoughtfully, the Vulcan smiled slightly and began to write again.

All was silence for the next half hour or so as the two sat and wrote, not speaking for fear of disturbing their trains of thought. They called up drinks and sandwiches upon completing the stargrams on scratch paper, going over the first drafts of the stargrams as they refreshed themselves, changing, adding or omitting as they saw fit before copying them onto the Starfleet stationery.

Christine finished hers first. She looked up and gave Spock a triumphant smile as she folded up the stationery, then sealed and addressed the stargram in a special blue-green postpaid envelope which characterized all mail going to Earth. Her parents had moved back there after Christopher Chapel's retirement from diplomatic service. He was now a "gentleman farmer" on a plot of land which they had purchased in the Ohio countryside, near her birthplace of Cleveland.

At his request, after noting that the envelope for Vulcan-bound stargrams was a pale green, she read the stargram to her parents out loud.

_Stardate 7419.3_

_Dear Mama and Daddy--  
_

_I'm very happy to be able to report that I am to be married in a couple of days...and to Spock, the one I've told you about. It hasn't been easy, but I took your advice, and it worked. He proposed to me a week ago.  
_

_I wish you could be here for my wedding, but I'll try to get a holovid of it for you. The Captain will be marrying us, Nyota will be Maid of Honor and Dr. McCoy will be attending Spock as well as giving me away.  
_

_Spock and I had a quarrel not too long ago, but after a rough few days, we made up (mainly because of our friends' intervention) and are closer than ever. I will tell you about that and the wedding next time. Take care and let me know all your news. _

_Much Love,  
Christine _

Spock nodded in approval when she finished, then said, "I am finished, Christine."

"Good," she smiled. "May I hear it?"

He hesitated, but began to read.

_Stardate 7419.3  
_

_Mother--  
_

_I am sorry that this is such short notice, but I believe you should be informed of my upcoming marriage. I proposed to Christine a week ago, and we will marry within 48 hours in a Federation ceremony. Jim will marry us, the Doctor will be attending me, and Miss Uhura will attend Christine. Dr. McCoy will also act as surrogate father to Christine, since her parents will be unable to come and "give her away".  
_

_I know that this will be enough for Christine, but I will not feel complete unless we can also have a Vulcan wedding. Unfortunately, there is no guarantee that T'Pau will be willing to perform the ceremony. I can only hope that she will honor tradition and grant me my right to be properly married in the eyes of my people. Perhaps it would be possible for my father to intercede with her on our behalf. I will await your reply.  
_

_I am hopeful of, but not optimistic about, a positive outcome. If it does not come about as I wish, it will be a disappointment, but no surprise. In that event, I must live with it as best I can. In the meantime, I hope all is well with you and my father, and that you will inform me of any news which you believe will be of interest to me. I will tell you more when I have more information.  
_

_With every affection...  
Your son,  
Spock _

Christine reacted to it as he had to hers. After a time, she stood up and stretched. "I'd better go mail this now. Would you like me to drop yours off too while I'm at it?"

Spock gave her a half-smile. "Your offer is appreciated, Christine, but I must purchase more postpaid envelopes, so I will take it myself."

"All right, if you say so. I'd better go now before the mailroom closes--then go to bed. We've got some busy days coming up." She then reached to cross fingers with him, then leaned down to brush his lips with hers in a brief kiss before leaving.

"I'll see you later, Spock."

"Good night, Christine."

The Vulcan allowed himself a smile in his bondmate's direction, then she stepped out. Spock told himself to go to the mailroom before going on duty the following morning. It opened at 0500 and closed at 1900 hours every day (though it had both a 24-hour mail computer and a regular slot), in keeping with the Federation "post offices" on the various member planets and starbases.

Within half an hour, Christine had returned to her quarters and showered, then changed into a silky shortie nightgown trimmed with delicate lace and climbed into bed, soon falling asleep with her arms around her pillow.

The next couple of days were so hectic that the parties concerned could recall only a blur later on. For the present, however, they were all too occupied with wedding preparations to think beyond them. Uhura and Christine spent their off-duty time working on their dresses and planning their hairstyles. Christine planned to wear a Vulcan hairstyle, if only to please Spock, and hopefully make him feel better in the event they were unable to have a Vulcan wedding. It wouldn't replace it, of course, but she hoped he would appreciate the gesture.

She was sure he would understand her wearing the traditional bridal gown (she had recently learned that she wasn't pregnant after all; her late period had been caused by emotional stress), since this was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and he would be unable to deny her anything that would make her happy, now that they were together.

As for Spock, the Vulcan and his two Human friends also spent many off-duty hours together, discussing what the Doctor's duties would be as "best man" and what Spock was supposed to do at a Federation wedding. Spock chose one of his most elaborate ceremonial robes to be married in--a thigh-length, royal blue affair with full sleeves, silver trim and intricate lettering, black pants and the long-sleeved, silver-grey shirt he usually wore under his uniform... and to top it off, black knee-high boots.

After that, the Captain and Spock held a man-to-man talk about what he could do to please his new wife. Not that he needed much instruction, but the Vulcan wasn't about to deny his friend the opportunity to "give him pointers". A lot of what Jim said had made the Vulcan blush, but at the same time, he made a mental note to try all that Kirk had suggested. Not all at once, of course, but over time. Spock had not had much experience in expressing emotions, and most of that had either been with Kirk or Christine.

The Vulcan was too embarrassed to research it on his own, and couldn't help wondering if she would note his increased knowledge. But one thing Spock _was_ sure of was that she would say that there was no need to improve on what they had--and with a part of him, he couldn't blame her. How could one improve on virtual perfection? Perhaps he could say that he wished to make sure it stayed that way.

If only for her own sake, he hoped that Christine was able to sleep on this, the night before their wedding. Spock doubted he would be able to. He had too much on his mind...like what the future would hold for them. Another thing the Vulcan was wondering was, could he be an effective husband to a Human woman?

As far as he could tell, his Human mother had not found his father lacking in any way...and as illogical as it was, Spock found himself cautiously optimistic that Christine would have the same opinion of him. It would be a long time before he got used to being married. His speculation and concern over how he would fare as a married man would keep him awake the rest of the night.

**eleven**

Spock had laid out his wedding finery before dressing to go on his duty shift, certain it would occupy him sufficiently so he would not have to concern himself with being a "bundle of nerves," as Jim would say. At least not until it came time to prepare for the ceremony, which would only be five and a half hours away once he and Jim were off-duty. Christine and the Doctor would be off-duty at 1500 and Uhura at 1600.

The First Officer liked to think that Jim would come by and they could have a final talk while helping him dress, but it was equally likely that the Doctor would come with the Captain. In that event, they would need to keep the talk casual...or as casual as Spock could make it. Once some time had passed, perhaps they could talk about his married life.

Meanwhile, he had to get through tomorrow--through his duty shift, the dressing and other wedding preparations, as well as the wedding itself (he had promised to kiss Christine after Jim pronounced them husband and wife)...and the beginning of their lives as a married couple. If the last two days were any indication of the emotions he would feel, Spock would need all his control and discipline to pull it off without embarrassing himself in front of Christine or their friends.

It was hard to say who found it the most difficult getting through their duty shifts, but with a mixture of professionalism and discipline, all managed. Upon going off-duty and returning to her quarters, Christine put the finishing touches on her dress, also making sure she had all the necessary accoutrements for the Vulcan hairstyle. Uhura was a talented hairstylist; it shouldn't be too difficult for her.

The headband would be carefully pinned into place, consisting of a small tiara-like affair with two small combs attached, silk roses, pearls, and a chapel-length veil. The scalloped-lace collar of the dress complemented the fitted bodice and equally fitted sleeves with lacy cuffs, which fell over Christine's slender hands. The rest of the dress was off-white silk, falling gracefully to her feet, flaring out enough so that she could walk gracefully.

There would be a blue garter on her right leg just above the knee, and she would wear off-white ballet pumps. She would also wear the perfume she had received as a gift from Amanda, a combination of Terran rose and Vulcan _t'lerya _flower scents. The sound of the buzzer brought the female Doctor back to reality, and she knew who it was after looking at the chrono beside her bed.

"Come on in, Nyota."

The Communications Officer stepped in, arms full of her own finery. "Be with you in a minute, Chris," she called back after stepping in and placing the items she carried on the nearby table. "Ready for me to do your hair?" the dark woman asked as she stepped into her friend's sleeping alcove to find the other woman seated at the vanity mirror next to her bed, clad in just her undergarments, a waist-length dark brown wig covering her own shoulder-length hair. The dress hung on the bathroom door, the shoes on the floor beneath it. The headband with attached veil sat nearby on the vanity table. Uhura's nose wrinkled in appreciation upon smelling the perfume. "Mmmm. Lovely perfume, Chris. What is it?"

The Doctor handed her friend a comb and turned to face the mirror again before answering. "A Vulcan perfume which is a combination of Terran rose and _t'lerya_ scent. Amanda sent it to me as an engagement gift. It's called _Ainama Ratahll,_ 'Beautiful Flowers'. If it doesn't bowl Spock over, nothing will!"

Uhura's eyes widened. "_T'lerya_? That's a Vulcan flower."

"Yes," came the answer. "It has a smell like honeysuckle."

"Spock should love it," Uhura opined.

"I hope so, especially since I intend to surprise him with it."

The computerized book on Vulcan hairstyles was on the small view screen at Christine's bedside, the former positioned so Uhura could refer to it as the women prepared for the upcoming wedding.

"How long do you think it'll take to finish the hairstyle?" Christine asked.

"Depends on what kind of luck I have in duplicating it," the dark woman replied. "Now if you'd kindly hand me that ponytail band..."

With that, the hairstyling began in earnest, and the main thing Christine did (other than tell the computer to move to the next page as it became necessary) was to hand Uhura the hair ornaments and such as they were needed. It was almost two hours before the Bantu finished her work, then showed her friend what it looked like. Christine smiled in approval.

"It's beautiful. Almost a shame to cover it."

Uhura nodded in agreement, then said, "Which reminds me. You'd better get into your dress, then you can fix your makeup while I get dressed. We'll put the headband and veil on last thing."

It took nearly half an hour for Christine to be fully attired, even with Uhura's help, but in the end, the female Doctor was a vision of loveliness--and the radiant happiness which shone in her blue eyes and on her face made her even more beautiful. Uhura then retrieved her own finery and got ready herself as Christine applied her makeup, both of which took another hour. By the time they finished, there was less than an hour until the wedding.

"Well, I'd better see how the guys are coming along. See you later, Chris."

The dark woman departed, her cap-sleeved, scoop-necked, old rose-colored dress with its fitted bodice and lace over silk (she had had her mother send it and the matching shoes from home; the last time she'd worn it was at her older brother's wedding shortly before she had joined Starfleet) swirling about her. Small gold-and-diamond earrings were in her pierced ears and a delicate gold chain with a small heart-shaped diamond was around her long, graceful neck.

Christine sat down carefully at the vanity again, fighting back nervousness and not succeeding. She had done her best to please Spock; all that remained now was his reaction.

The three men were gathered in Spock's quarters. The Vulcan was putting the finishing touches on himself as Kirk and McCoy waited in the living area, both men attired in their dress uniforms. "Never thought it would take this long for Spock to get ready, Jim," the Doctor remarked to the Captain. "I thought only a woman could primp so much!"

"This is a special day, Bones. We'd probably primp just as much if it were one of us getting married," Kirk chided. In the next moment, the buzzer sounded.

Spock was at his bathroom mirror, still adjusting the fastenings on his ceremonial robe. "Jim, could you please answer that for me?"

Kirk had already stood up and turned toward the door. "Of course, Spock."

The Captain opened the door to find Uhura standing there, smiling appreciatively at the sight of her. "Hey, don't you look nice!"

"Thank you," she smiled. "How are you all coming along?"

"Bones and I are ready, and Spock should be in a few minutes. How about Christine?"

"Waiting in her quarters," came the reply. "Which reminds me, I'd better get back to her. See you in a little while." She nodded and smiled in the men's direction, then departed.

A short time later, Spock joined the Captain and McCoy. The Vulcan could scarcely fathom that the day was finally here, that he would soon marry the woman he loved--a day he had hardly dared even think might happen to him, he had spent so much of his life alone. But that was all behind him now. He would never be alone again. He would have a wife who loved him as he had always dreamed, and eventually a child. He could only hope that he would prove worthy of Christine and her love and be a good father to their child when the time came, not making the mistakes with him or her as his own father had made with him.

"Ready, Spock?" Kirk asked with a reassuring smile as his Vulcan friend moved with him to the door, McCoy following in their wake.

"As ready as I will ever be," came the quiet reply.

"In that case, we'd better get going. The girls are waiting for us."

The three then left the Vulcan's quarters and headed for a turbolift which would take them to the ship's Chapel on Deck 7.

The aforementioned couple were nowhere in sight when the other three arrived, but McCoy knew where they must be and excused himself to go join them. Spock and Kirk took their designated places at the flower-decorated altar and waited. Fifteen minutes later, the traditional music began and Uhura appeared, carrying a bouquet of red roses which matched the ones in her hair.

She was followed by McCoy with Christine, her left hand resting lightly on the Doctor's right arm. Her other hand carried a bouquet of white roses and baby's-breath with pink ribbons dangling from it. Spock's heart rate accelerated as she approached. How could anyone so lovely and loving truly be his? Not long afterward, the Doctor relinquished her to Spock, standing on the Vulcan's right side as Uhura stood on Christine's left. The First Officer and his bride held hands as they faced Kirk.

"Since the days of the first wooden vessels, all ship's masters have had one happy privilege--that of joining two people in the bonds of matrimony. It is an even happier time when at least one is a close friend. And so we are here today in order that you, Spock, and you, Christine, may pledge your love to one another in accordance with our laws and many beliefs."

As Kirk spoke, the couple looked at each other; unspoken love flowed between them.

_You are lovely, Christine,_ Spock told her.

_As is your perfume.  
_

_Thank you, beloved. I hoped you'd like it. _

_Very much, m'chejan,_ he assured her. _And I noted your Vulcan hairstyle as well. It is most becoming. _

She lowered her eyes and blushed attractively at his compliment before Kirk's voice brought them back to reality.

"Do you, Spock, take Christine as your lawfully wedded wife from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health--to love, honor and cherish until death do you part?"

The Vulcan looked at his bride, allowing himself a smile in her direction. "I do."

The Captain then addressed Christine. "Do you, Christine, take Spock as your lawfully wedded husband from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health--to love, honor and cherish until death do you part?"

"I do." She smiled at her bridegroom and squeezed his hand.

"The rings, please."

McCoy and Uhura produced them; the Doctor gave Spock the one for Christine. The Vulcan released her hand, then looked at Kirk for instructions as to what to do next.

"Spock, take this ring and put it on her finger, then repeat after me...'With this ring, I thee wed--and hereby accept you, Christine, as my wife, for now and forever'."

It was hard for the Vulcan's suddenly trembling fingers to manage the almost impossibly small gold band with a stylized IDIC symbol (the rings had been custom-made on Vulcan, then the order sent to the _Enterprise_ by Amanda), but he finally managed to slip it onto her left ring finger and recite the aforementioned statement. A moment later, Uhura handed a larger but otherwise identical ring to Christine.

Kirk told her, "Repeat after me-- 'With this ring, I thee wed...and hereby accept you, Spock, as my husband--for now and forever'."

This time, Christine looked at her own closest friend for strength before putting the ring on her bridegroom's outstretched left hand. The couple turned back to the Captain.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Spock."

The Vulcan was too happy to care what anyone thought of his subsequent actions. Even McCoy was too stunned to react for some time. The couple came up for air thirty seconds later, eyes bright and faces flushed. Christine had no idea Spock was capable of such a thing in public, but decided she wouldn't let it bother her if it didn't bother him.

"There wasn't enough time to plan a reception or get wedding presents, so what do you say to having one as soon as we can arrange it?" Kirk asked.

"That would seem to be the most logical course of action, Jim. Do you not agree, my wife?" Spock reached to cross fingers with his new wife, again allowing himself a smile in her direction.

Christine returned it and nodded, grateful for the additional time to choose a gift for Spock...and for Nyota and McCoy for attending her.

"What do you intend to do now, Spock?" the Captain wondered.

"I believe we shall have dinner, then retire," was the reply. Spock felt his wife's silent agreement. "After we have changed clothes."

The five shared a pleasant dinner together, the newlyweds exchanging either a mental conversation, a squeezing of hands or crossing of fingers in between speaking and eating with their friends. There was even a toast during the dinner, which both pleased and embarrassed them. It was nearly 2200 when the friends bade each other good-night.

Once behind the doors of "their" quarters, the newly married couple went into each other's arms for a lingering kiss. Upon reluctantly separating, both undressed in silence...then moved into each other's arms again upon getting into bed. Christine enjoyed feeling her husband's fingers, lips and face in her hair after the wig was removed--and his warm breath. Their kissing and touching was tentative at first, but after a time it deepened and became intimate.

After that, only sounds of movement and sweet nonsense were heard in the warm darkness of the "honeymoon suite" as the couple made love for the first time as husband and wife. Finally, only soft breathing came from the intricately entwined bodies of the married lovers as they slept deeply and contentedly in each other's arms until ship's morning.

**twelve**

Christine awoke to warm lips brushing across her eyelids. She opened her eyes to gaze upon the exotically handsome and most beloved face of her Vulcan husband, smiling as their eyes met.

"Good morning, my love."

"Good morning, my wife. I trust you slept well."

It was hard to believe this was real, that they were actually married. It seemed more like a beautiful dream Christine was having, but one from which she never wanted to awaken if it meant that she could love Spock as she had always wanted to--and he loved her. He hadn't said it in words for some time, but words weren't always necessary. She felt it through their bond and that was sufficient...at least for now.

"Very well, thank you--but then, I always did whenever you were beside me."

His cheeks took on a faint greenish tinge, but Christine simply smiled and kissed his nose.  
"Do you have duty today?"

His color deepened slightly, but his voice betrayed nothing. "No. Do you?"

"No...but even if I did, I'd call in sick or something. The last thing I want to do right now is get up and leave you."

"We will have to eventually," he reminded her.

"I know, but I'll worry about that when the time comes." Her tone was such that even Spock didn't question her. "For the moment, all I want to do is enjoy our honeymoon and being alone with you."

Their eyes met again and his fingers touched her cheek, unspoken love flowing between them. A moment later, she was both pleased and surprised that he had kissed her without her asking him to.

"Mmmm. Very nice. What brought that on?"

The Vulcan looked almost indignant. "Do I need a reason to kiss my wife?"

"Oh no, of course not. I was just surprised. You don't usually kiss me unless I ask you." She stroked his lips with a finger. "What if we wanted more than a kiss?"

"It would have to wait until we were back here in our quarters," was the matter-of-fact reply.

"We're here now," she reminded him.

An upswept eyebrow rose. "My wife, are you trying to seduce me? If so, I must remind you that Vulcans cannot be seduced."

His wife stroked his lips. "As the good Doctor would say, 'In a pig's eye.' Now what's your answer?"

Spock said not a word, simply drew his wife close and kissed her again. Not even pregnancy--when it happened--would prevent their sharing physical as well as emotional closeness. She would not allow it. Christine also intended to discuss the possibility of a Vulcan wedding at some point. It was still too early to hear anything from his parents on that score, but she knew it concerned Spock greatly.

She could understand his wish for a Vulcan wedding, because after having lived in the Vulcan way for so long, he would not feel they were truly married unless they went through the _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_ ceremony. But in the meantime, all she was concerned with was her husband's nearness.

It was 1230 hours when they arose and showered, then dressed and left their quarters for the Officers' Lounge. The most they did in public was cross fingers or hold hands. Anything more than the aforementioned actions would remain in the privacy of their quarters. Spock had to have time to get used to the Human ways of showing affection and Christine intended to give him that time...and any help he might need. This was when the turbolift doors opened and he released her hand to cross fingers with her again as they walked through the ship's corridors. Upon reaching the Lounge, they called up their meals and looked for a place to sit.

"Over here, Spock, Chris!"

They turned to see McCoy waving at them from a table where he was seated with Kirk and Uhura. The newlyweds looked at each other, and Christine sensed that her husband was uncomfortable with the idea of having to endure the Chief Surgeon's penetrating eyes and pointed questions. Don't worry, love. I'll handle him, she assured Spock through their bond.

The First Officer allowed himself a smile in his wife's direction, then composed himself as they approached the table where their three shipmates and friends sat. Spock told himself to concentrate on his wife and Kirk as much as possible, even though he knew that McCoy cared about him and meant well...but Jim was gentler and more subtle about "drawing him out," which was one reason the Vulcan was more comfortable with him. Whatever the Doctor's faults, however, he had long ago proven himself a friend, so his teasing was simply one of the idiosyncrasies that Spock had learned to live with.

"Well, hello, newlyweds," McCoy said with a grin. "I didn't think we were going to see you two out and about this soon."

"There's such a thing as being hungry, Leonard--even for newlyweds. You know that," Christine rejoined coolly before taking a bite of her Denver omelet and washing it down with orange juice.

This effectively silenced McCoy, but he didn't look pleased at his assistant having put him in his place so cleverly. He was particularly indignant at her having denied him the chance to bait Spock. But as much as Christine cared about McCoy, Spock was her husband, the most important thing in her life; she wasn't about to allow even Leonard to embarrass him.

"How's marriage so far, Spock?" Kirk asked as he prepared to eat his breakfast of cinnamon-apple pancakes, scrambled eggs and sausage. Strong coffee was his beverage of choice.

"Most satisfactory, Jim," came the quiet reply as the Science Officer prepared to eat his own breakfast. The Vulcan did not elaborate, but knowing his alien friend as he did, Kirk didn't expect him to.

As for Uhura, she had planned to ask Christine the same question, but decided to hold off until they could speak privately. The other woman's radiant face spoke volumes to her closest friend. She had the same look about her as when they had discussed the private times with Spock during the Sapphiran mission, so it seemed that Chris considered the Vulcan well worth the years she had waited for him...but Uhura couldn't be sure until they had actually talked about it. Consequently, she simply remained quiet and observed.

"Have you learned of any further abuse on Sapphira VII, Jim?" the Vulcan asked, all business again.

"Rumors only. Nothing verifiable," was the reply.

"Do you think we will have to return there and 'take matters into our own hands,' so to speak, in order to straighten out the situation?"

Kirk sighed and frowned. "My gut feeling tells me we should, Spock, but until and if we get official orders, the Prime Directive specifically prohibits our taking any action."

The First Officer frowned at the thought, frankly dreading the prospect of any more men suffering as the one Pietro had told him about had. He could only hope that the rumors were just that--rumors--  
and that Pietro would never be subjected to such abuse. So far, he hadn't been (at least, as far as Spock knew), but Sapphira was the kind who would think nothing of making an example of any man she thought might have defied her in any way.

Spock had just been lucky, as Humans would put it, that he had been able to defy Sapphira and live to tell about it...and most importantly, come out of the situation in one piece. If it hadn't been for Christine's intervention, he didn't know what he'd have done.

Christine felt his distress before he had the chance to put up mental shields, projecting a soothing balm of reassuring love. Such a thing would never happen to him if she had the power to stop it. Nor would any more men suffer at Sapphira's hands because of her selfish, sadistic ways if the Federation could prevent it.

_Thank you, my wife,_ he thought, with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude.

_Any time, my husband,_ she smiled through their link. _Now, let's finish breakfast before it congeals._

A short time later, the five finished eating; three went back on duty and the other two back to their quarters. They would not return to duty until the following morning, during which they would reach their next assignment.

Several days later, Christine heard back from her parents. They were thrilled to learn that she had married the one she loved. She had every intention of telling Spock, even though it was likely to prompt him to speculate on why he hadn't heard from his own parents. She had no more idea why than he did, but for his sake, hoped that when they did answer, the news would be good. Perhaps Sarek was negotiating with T'Pau on their behalf even now.

Christine got off-duty shortly before her husband did, taking a shower and putting on a soft, floral print caftan. She left her hair down after combing it, wearing the rose and _t'lerya_ perfume, but left her feet bare. She then put on some instrumental music and lay back on the bed, re-reading the stargram from her parents. Half an hour later, she heard the door open and her husband's voice.

"Christine? Where are you, _m'chejan_?"

"In here, Spock," she called from the bedroom.

He joined her a moment later, leaning down to brush her lips in a kiss of greeting after crossing fingers with her. His sharp eyes noted the paper in her right hand and asked what it was.

"I heard from my parents," she told him. "They're thrilled that we've gotten married."

Spock allowed himself a half-smile at the news, pleased to hear it but as his wife had surmised, more concerned with why he hadn't heard from his own parents by now.

"Perhaps it's taking longer to negotiate with T'Pau than Sarek expected," Christine suggested, answering his question before he voiced it.

"Provided he was willing to make the attempt...and that T'Pau was willing to negotiate," came the dubious reply.

"We must think positive, beloved," she gently insisted.

"Believe me, my wife, I am attempting to do so, but if you knew my father and T'Pau--" The Vulcan broke off, still sounding uncertain.

"I may not know them, but if your father is anything like you, he's as stubborn as the proverbial mule. I'll truly be surprised if he doesn't convince T'Pau to marry us. If I were the betting type, my credits would be on Sarek to be the irresistible force to T'Pau's immovable object."

"I truly...hope your confidence is justified," Spock conceded.

"It will be. Trust me."

"I trust you, Christine. It is my father and T'Pau whom I am--unsure of."

When her husband sat down beside her, Christine set down the stargram and opened her arms. Spock hesitated only a moment before moving into them. She held his head close and stroked his silky dark hair as he tentatively slid his arms around her.

"It doesn't make any difference to me whether or not we have a Vulcan wedding, especially if T'Pau is so xenophobic that she can't stand the thought of another Vulcan/Terran marriage. However, I know how much it would mean to you to be married in the eyes of 'your people,' as you call them...so for your sake, I hope everything works out. But even if it doesn't, we're still legally married. That's what matters. We're together, and any child we have will be legitimate. Don't you agree?"

The Vulcan had been silent in his wife's arms until now, simply savoring her closeness and perfume. He had no interest in talking at the moment, but knew he had to say something.

"For the most part--yes, but it is...premature to discuss our marriage in too much detail. There is time enough to make judgments at a later date. Let us refrain from further discussion now. I wish only to rest."

But Spock made no move to get up and undress. In fact, Christine was both surprised and pleased to discover that her husband had put himself into a sleep-trance. His head was heavy on her breast, his arms gentle but strong and secure around her, and his breath warm on her skin. She carefully maneuvered them so that they were lying down, simply holding Spock as he slept, even though each of them were still fully dressed and lying on top of the bedcovers. He must have been exhausted, to do such a thing. It didn't happen often, but when it did he really needed the rest, and her medical instinct told her not to disturb him.

It was in this manner that the couple slept the rest of the night.

It was another week before Spock heard back from his parents (or more accurately, his mother) regarding the Vulcan wedding. Upon receipt of the stargram, he dreaded opening it because he was sure it contained bad news. It was Christine who finally convinced him to open it.

_Stardate 7423.7_

_Spock--  
_

_I am pleased to announce that I managed to talk your father into putting his differences with you aside (temporarily, at least) so you could be properly married. Even at that, he was dubious as to the likelihood of T'Pau agreeing to a second Vulcan/Terran marriage in the same family. But I think the fact that the two of you are bonded and already married via the Federation ceremony helped to sway her, if only a little.  
_

_The fact that you wish to be properly married in accordance with Vulcan custom was also a major factor in her decision to officiate, however reluctant. It's hard to turn down someone who wants to honor tradition, and you know what a traditionalist she is._

_I also liked the fact that Sarek pointed out to her that if you didn't honor Vulcan tradition, it would be her fault for refusing to marry you and Christine...that it was wrong to circumvent Vulcan law to suit herself, in an attempt to justify her xenophobia. If that isn't illogical, nothing is.  
_

_However, the news isn't all good. Nothing your father could say would budge her regarding having any more Humans at the koon-ut-kal-if-fee ceremony other than Christine and Captain Kirk. That means that neither I nor Dr. McCoy may attend--nor can her friend, Uhura. Please accept our profound regrets at having been unable to do better, my son, but at least you will be able to marry in a Vulcan ceremony as you wished, even if you can only have one friend there to witness it.  
_

_That was probably only because Sarek reminded her that it was your right by law to have at least one friend stand with you at the wedding, but what matters is that she has granted it. However, nothing's going to stop me from giving you two a wedding reception. Do you think the Captain would be willing to host it with me? I have a lovely present I want to give you. It may be illogical, but humor your emotional Human mother, okay? When one only has one child, they tend to 'smother' the child with attention, even 'spoil' them...especially a child such as you, even when the child is grown.  
_

_I am thankful you turned out so well, in spite of your disastrous first bonding and overly strict upbringing. Please discuss my question with the Captain and let me know what you decide. Your father also said to tell you that the Vulcan ceremony can be performed as soon as you arrive, but that T'Pau is reluctant as it is, so please don't make her wait any longer than absolutely necessary.  
_

_We will see you as soon as you can get here, my son, and are looking forward to meeting our new daughter-in-law. Until then, I am always...  
_

_Your Loving Mother _

Spock looked up at his anxious wife, relieved and disappointed at the same time.

"Well, what did she say? Don't keep me in suspense!"

"Patience, my wife," he gently admonished. "I will tell you soon enough."

Christine frowned at him; the Vulcan sighed and began.

"Very well, if you insist. Mother said that she managed to convince my father to speak to T'Pau on our behalf. He was dubious as to whether or not he would be able to 'talk her around,' as it were, but I am pleased to report that he did. T'Pau was reluctant, but agreed to marry us at our earliest convenience. However, Mother suggests that we not make her wait any longer than we have to.

"Also, we will only be able to have one friend stand with us--Captain Kirk. Mother sends her regrets to us both that they were unable to convince T'Pau to allow the Doctor, Mother, or Miss Uhura to come. We must be grateful that we will be allowed to marry in the eyes of my people, and that Jim will be there."

"Oh, I am...if only for your sake. I know how much this means to you. I'm big enough to swallow my disappointment, and am sure Leonard and Nyota will understand. As you once said, they couldn't be our friends and _not_ understand."

Spock allowed himself a smile in her direction. "Thank you, my wife."

"Anything else?" Christine asked as she returned his smile.

"She also mentioned wanting to co-host a wedding reception with Jim because she had a present for us, and suggested that our friends present their gifts to us at that time. Do you think they will be willing to do so?"

"Oh, I think so, if only to please us. Do you know if they have the presents yet?"

"I believe they all have something picked out, but have not yet had the opportunity to purchase the gifts they have in mind."

"How long will it take to get to Vulcan from where we are now?"

"Five point-two-eight days at warp six," was the answer.

"When do you plan to tell the others?" she wondered.

"I will leave the telling of the Doctor and Miss Uhura to you. I will tell Jim what Mother said and we will act accordingly. However, I must answer her immediately--this evening--and transmit it in order for it to reach Vulcan in time to let my parents know that we are coming..." His voice trailed off. tab

"Provided no contrary orders come in," Christine finished.

Spock raised an eyebrow at his wife, still not used to having someone besides Jim aware of his thoughts and feelings. He was used to the Captain knowing because of their long-standing fraternal bond; a matrimonial bond was something else again.

"Do you think anything will come up between now and then?" she asked.

"It is entirely possible," Spock admitted. "Especially considering Sapphira's propensity for sadism and tyranny."

"So much for a supposedly peace-loving people," Christine opined dryly. "You know what she's likely to do if she sees either of us again, so I hope we won't have to make good on our threat."

"As do I," came the reply. "But we must be prepared for the worst, even as we hope for the best."

Christine smiled and crossed fingers with her husband. "I will tell Jim about Mother's stargram tomorrow, once we are off-shift. For the present, let us change for bed and retire."

Within an hour the couple was in bed, finding it much easier to compose themselves for sleep now that they knew they would be able to have the Vulcan wedding after all. They shared a good-night kiss and fell asleep in each other's arms a short time later.

Sareenah couldn't take it any longer. In fact, she was ready to climb the wall. Whatever the consequences, she had to have Pietro. The last three months had seemed like three centuries! That was how long the pair had been secretly meeting, their rendezvous reminiscent of an undercover spy mission. But the cloak-and-dagger secrecy had been worth it despite the danger of Sapphira finding out. The last time they had been together, the couple had thrown caution to the winds and made love.

The encounter had been every bit as heavenly as each could have imagined, standing in stark contrast to Pietro's increasingly meaningless joinings with Sapphira. After experiencing true love, the joy and ecstasy he had found in Sareenah's arms, Sapphira not only left him cold, but literally sickened him. Sareenah lacked Christine's height but was virtually identical to her in personality, as well as angelically beautiful.

Only an hour now until their plan to run away together would be put into operation. With luck, Sapphira wouldn't find out until after they were too far away to catch...particularly if their departure were timed for after she had fallen asleep for the night. This was one time her habit of sleeping deeply would work to their advantage. Once out of the First Province, they planned to travel to the Twelfth, where Sareenah's family lived. They would stay with them until both felt it safe to openly declare their love and get married.

She had confided her plans to Setara; her friend had tried to talk her out of it, but without success. All Setara could do was wish them luck; they would need all they could get. A miracle wouldn't hurt, either.

"You know what will happen if Sapphira finds out and catches up with you," Setara warned. "She could have you both killed--or worse, tortured."

"Wouldn't you do the same thing if it meant being with Henri?" Sareenah countered.

That effectively silenced Setara, at least momentarily, but did not lessen her worry for her friend's life, freedom or safety...as well as that of the man the latter loved. Setara could hardly stand the thought of what would happen to them if their plan was uncovered. Particularly if _her_ knowledge of the plot (or her work in the CRSD) came to light.

In that event, her own fate was likely to be the same as that of the hapless lovers. Or maybe Sapphira would devise a special torture for her, one which would make her and Henri wish that Sapphira would simply kill her and be done with it. But for the moment, Setara pushed her fears aside and wished Sareenah the best.

"Thanks, Setti. I'll contact you when it's safe," the latter promised, calling her friend by the nickname only she could get away with calling her, after the two shared a parting embrace and the other woman prepared to depart and meet Pietro to carry out their plan.

"Wait," Setara called.

Sareenah turned back to face her.

"We have another CRSD meeting tonight. You and Pietro are two of the top officers. What am I going to say when you don't show up?"

Sareenah smiled. "You'll think of something, Setti. We have every confidence in you."

Setara's heart ached at the sweetness of the smile. If Sapphira learned of their plans, she might never see that smile, or Sareenah alive, again. But Sareenah and Pietro were counting on her to cover for them, so she would have to do her best. She had never been good at subterfuge; she could only hope that she would be able to pull it off. One thing she _was_ certain of was that the couple would never be completely safe. They would likely be on the run for the rest of their lives, even if they did manage to get out of the First Province.

Unfortunately, there was no talking to Sareenah when her mind was made up. All Setara could do was pray that things would work out for Sareenah and Pietro (and herself) to escape Sapphira's clutches--not to mention her wrath--and start a new life ...but Setara had a terrible feeling that disaster was about to descend on them all.


	6. Chapter 13

**thirteen **

After an uneventful shift the following day, Kirk and Spock went to the Officers' Lounge for what was ostensibly lunch, but at which only Kirk ate. Whenever possible, Spock preferred to wait until Christine was off-duty and eat with her. They had just started a new shift rotation, which meant that he and Kirk got off Alpha shift at 1600, just as Christine went on Beta. She wouldn't get off until 2400.

The Vulcan hadn't eaten since the previous evening, and knew that if his wife learned of this, she would give him one of her standard lectures, which Spock knew he usually deserved ...and she _would _find out. No matter how he tried to hide it, she always seemed to know. It was to his own detriment to go without food too long, even if Vulcans _could _technically fast far longer than Humans.

His Human half prompted him to eat more often than most Vulcans, but he still didn't eat nearly enough, in Christine's estimation--and even though he didn't want to admit it, she was right. One of her duties as Head Nurse had been supervising the diets of the senior officers, and although the current Head Nurse, Liz Rogers, now did the rest, Christine had kept up her personal supervision of Spock's diet.

He was eating better than he had before their marriage, but could still stand to gain at least five more kilos (roughly ten pounds), which would put him in the normal weight range for a Vulcan his age and height. His mother had always fussed over his not eating enough, too, but not even she had been able to influence him as Christine had. Kirk's voice brought him back to reality.

"Earth to Spock...Spock, are you there?"

The First Officer looked up apologetically. "I am sorry, Jim. I was preoccupied."

Kirk smiled. "Quite understandable. Now, don't you think you'd better eat? You haven't since yesterday at dinner, and you know how upset Christine gets if she finds out--and she usually does."

"I know."

Part of Spock was embarrassed, another was pleased that she cared so much about his health...not simply because he was a member of the command crew, but because he was her husband.

"But I would still prefer to wait and eat with her."

"I'm sure she wouldn't begrudge you eating without her. You could still eat something _with_ her, and then tell her how you ate lunch at such and such a time while she was on duty. That would really please her, and I know you _do_ like to please her--especially since you've been married."

Spock gave his friend a half-smile. Even as well as they knew each other, Jim could still surprise him on occasion.

"Very well, Jim. I will have some pasta primavera salad. Excuse me." The Vulcan got up and went to call up the food and a cup of herbal tea on the food processor, returning with the salad and the tea to rejoin Kirk.

"Now, you said you'd heard from your parents?" the Captain prompted as soon as Spock sat down again.

The Vulcan inclined his head. "My father managed to talk T'Pau into officiating at a Vulcan wedding for Christine and myself. However, nothing he said could move her regarding having more than two Humans there--Christine and yourself. It was impossible to convince her to allow the Doctor, Mother or Miss Uhura there. I am sorry."

"It's not your fault, Spock. I'm sure Bones and Uhura will understand, just as your mother does. I'm thankful that you'll be able to have the Vulcan wedding as you wanted, and that I can be there. That's what matters. Your father is an extraordinary diplomat."

"But I wanted to have the Doctor there, as well as Mother and Miss Uhura, if only for Christine's sake." The Vulcan's voice was laced with equal parts regret and anger.

"I know, and I'm sure they'll be pleased to know you feel that way. When did you plan to have the ceremony?"

"Mother suggests we have it as soon as possible after we arrive at Vulcan, because even my father can only convince T'Pau to wait so long. She is reluctant as it is."

Kirk nodded. "I kind of expected that. Now all we can do is hope we don't get orders from Fleet Command to go elsewhere...like Sapphira VII."

Spock gave his friend a half-smile. "Most assuredly."

There was a moment of silence, then the Captain spoke again. "Of course, I could always disregard the orders to go to Sapphira VII, should they come in."

"I would not recommend it," Spock cautioned. "We were simply--fortunate...that you did not get into considerable difficulty because of what you did to accommodate me during my first _pon farr_. It is inadvisable for you to attempt a similar course of action in this instance."

_That's putting it mildly, as usual,_ Kirk thought with an inward chuckle. "If I hadn't, you wouldn't be here now," the Captain reminded him.

"It was still unwise," came the answer.

"But I'm not sorry I did it. End of discussion."

Spock sighed and took a drink of his herbal tea, ignoring Kirk's last statement long enough to get in one last word. "As you wish. I simply have no wish to see you put through unnecessary difficulty. I--appreciate what you did for me, but you might not be so...lucky a second time."

The Vulcan's tone was equal parts gratitude, concern and disapproval, but Kirk had expected the latter emotion, so he quietly disregarded it while being pleased at the former two.

"Did your mother say anything else?"

"Only that she wished to co-host a "wedding reception" with you after the Vulcan wedding. She suggested that all of you bring your gifts so as to give them to us all at once. Would you mind that, or would you prefer to have it aboard ship?"

"No, what you said is fine. I'd be delighted to co-host the reception with her. Now all we have to do is wrap our gifts. Bones and Uhura said they'd gotten their gifts yesterday, as soon as they were off-shift, and so did I. Of course, it helped to get off-duty earlier."

Spock nodded with a half-smile before taking another swig of herbal tea. "Would we forego the trip to Vulcan if you receive an order to go to Sapphira VII again?"

"Not if I can help it," Kirk declared.

"And if it is unavoidable?" the Vulcan retorted.

"Then I'll deal with it when the time comes," was the reply. "In the meantime, we'll head for Vulcan at maximum warp. All you need concern yourself with is getting properly married. Let _me_ worry about Starfleet orders."

The Vulcan took another swallow of tea. "If that is what you wish."

"It is. Now let's stop arguing so I can finish my lunch. I don't like trying to eat it after it gets cold."

However curt Kirk may have seemed, Spock knew his Captain and friend well enough to know that it wasn't directed at him; Jim was simply preoccupied. That happened often when one was a starship Captain, having several things on his mind at once. It was for that reason that the First Officer did not point out that their "argument" had concluded earlier, but instead clamped his mouth shut and finished his tea shortly after consuming the pasta salad.

Setara was right--at least in part. It turned out that Sapphira had suspected Pietro and Sareenah of having an affair all along, and eventually had the lovers followed, captured and made examples of...but they were not taken without a struggle. After being stripped and beaten, the luckless pair were placed in solitary cells.

The jailers in the men's and women's prisons had been given strict orders not to feed, clothe or allow the prisoners to bathe until and unless they renounced each other--something which both Pietro and Sareenah vowed that they would never do, even if it meant spending the rest of their lives in prison.

Once Setara learned this, she knew the time had come for her and the CRSD to act if her friend and the latter's paramour were to live. The kind of abuse that Sapphira and her henchmen dished out was such that prisoners rarely lasted more than a month or two. If they didn't go mad from loneliness or sensory deprivation, starvation or cold-related illnesses and infection from untreated wounds claimed them. However it happened, their end would be slow and painful.

Due to his size and weight, Pietro might last longer, but Sareenah only weighed a fraction over one hundred pounds. It wouldn't take long for her to starve to death, for there was no amount of weight she could afford to lose without it affecting her health to some degree. She also took cold easily and was a very fastidious person, rarely going more than a day without bathing or changing clothes.

Once Setara's CRSD colleagues found out about Sapphira's latest atrocity, she was sure they would agree that their selfish, sadistic leader had to go, even if it was the last thing any of them ever did. In the meantime, she had to get that same head of state off her back so she could make the meeting.

Sapphira demanded to know why Setara couldn't stay; it took all her diplomatic skills to put her off. Even then, Setara was certain that she was now under suspicion and was uneasy as she made her way to the CRSD's secret meeting place, praying that she was not being followed. She had covered her tracks very well so far (or so she believed), but now had to be very careful lest her secret activities be discovered and punishment meted out accordingly.

She breathed a deep sigh of relief as she slipped behind a cleverly concealed curtain, which turn concealed a roomful of people, both men and women, roughly two dozen in number--the top members of the CRSD. The furnishings were simple: a large, circular table with chairs around it, along with a _kaffa _(coffee) and soft drink machine about six feet away.

On the wall facing the table was a large Sapphiran flag, a deep blue with gold doves of peace scattered over it, olive branches in their beaks. There was also a large oil painting of Seleenah, the former Sapphiran leader, beside the flag. It was the Vice President, an older woman named Savanna, who had worked under Seleenah, Sapphira's mother--one of only a handful of former legislators left in the First Province--who then approached Setara and spoke to her. Savanna's assistant, Alexei, a Sapphiran male of Russian descent, stood next to Savanna.

"I'm sure you've heard what happened," the older woman remarked, barely concealed anger in her voice. Her ice-blue eyes blazed in her care-worn face. "I tell you, Setara, this madness cannot continue! Sapphira is a dangerous psychopath and must be stopped before she ends up killing us all!"

Setara nodded in agreement and spoke quietly. "I agree, Savanna, and she _will_ be stopped--but we must go about it properly. Otherwise, we could end up as Pietro and Sareenah have."

"Setara, how in the twin moons could you have allowed Pietro and Sareenah to even attempt to carry out such a mad scheme?" Alexei almost spat out his words, his anger as great as Savanna's. Unlike their outside lives, he and the other men mentioned were equal to women in their secret society and therefore could hold high positions in the organization.

Setara's sigh was half-sad, half-exasperated. "I tried to stop them, Alexei. I couldn't. You know how stubborn Sareenah is once she's made up her mind."

Alexei smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I'm just so worried about them."

"That goes for all of us," a new voice put in, which Setara recognized as Selanyah, the CRSD's treasurer. "We've got to do something...and fast. They're not going to last long in prison, not with the kind of abuse Sapphira practices."

"I know," Setara acknowledged. "In fact, I was even thinking--"

She had been about to tell her colleagues that she was seriously considering contacting the Federation when she was interrupted by Selanyah's assistant, Willem, a Sapphiran of Canadian descent...and Sareenah's older brother.

"Is there any way we could contact the Federation again? I'm sure they could help us."

A deadpan voice replied, "Oh, they _could_; there's no doubt of that, particularly since they were able to get off this nightmare planet in one piece." Senorrah, the CRSD's co-chairman, along with Setara (and about two years older), was the speaker. "But the question is, _would_ they? Remember what the Vulcan, Spock, told us about their General Order One, what he referred to as the Prime Directive, which prohibits them from interfering in the normal social development of any individual planet."

"You call what Sapphira's done 'normal'?" Carl'lo, Senorrah's consort, snapped. Another hybrid of Italian descent like Pietro (though not half-Argelian, but Alpha Centauran), the tall, portly yet handsome man continued, his heavily accented voice crackling with anger. "Good gods, it's only one step away from a dictatorship! They wouldn't be interfering in our society, but instead, saving us from genocide!"

"Carl'lo's right," Willem declared. "If nothing is done, it's only a matter of time until Sapphira finds out about us and we join Sareenah and Pietro. In their absence, you're the senior club official, Setara. You've _got_ to contact the Federation, see if they'll help us. Even if they refuse, at least we'll know we tried. We can't just knuckle under any more."

Willem's head lifted, his love and concern for his sister obvious; his leading eyes met Setara's. The entreaty she saw there erased any doubts she may have had as to their chances for success in contacting the Federation and convincing them to help them depose Sapphira. Their goal of returning Sapphira VII to the democracy and virtual paradise it had once been before Sapphira came to power would be well on the way to being achieved.

Setara looked around at the other faces, into the eyes of her other comrades, all of whom seemed to share her and Willem's feelings. "All right, I'll do what I can--but don't count on anything until and unless they actually agree to send help."

As Setara turned to go, everyone wished her luck and warned her to be careful. She slipped out of the concealed room and stealthily approached the garage where her car was parked, checking periodically to assure herself that she wasn't being tailed. Upon reaching her mid-20th-century model car, she forced herself to act casually, making sure not to do anything to draw attention to herself. After a forty-five-minute drive, she parked, got out and made her way to the building...deserted because it was a weekend.

She was thankful that there was no one to ask her questions she couldn't answer as she got out her key and let herself in, going up to the fourth floor where her station and the long-range communications equipment were, adjusting the signal to maximum before sending out the following distress call:

_This is planet Sapphira VII calling any Federation ship within range. This is an urgent request help. Repeat, urgent! We ask you to contact the nearest Starfleet base and send help. Please hurry. It's a matter of life and death._

Setara repeated herself a dozen times, but received no answer for such a long time that she was ready to give up before one came. Upon hearing the welcome voice, Setara's eyes filled with tears of relief.

"This is Captain Marvin Rosenberg of the Federation starship Exeter. What is your problem, Sapphira VII?" The voice was kind, if somewhat skeptical--skepticism which disappeared once Setara explained the situation. "We'll see what we can do. In the meantime, stay on this frequency so we do not lose contact. I cannot guarantee we'll be able to help you, but I will contact my superiors and tell them what's happened on your planet."

"We would appreciate anything you could do...and don't worry. I'm not going anywhere," Setara assured him.

"Good. Please stand by. I'll get back to you as soon as I receive an answer. Rosenberg out."

Setara removed her earphones and looped them around her neck, yawning and stretching to get the kinks out of her back. She went to the nearby _kaffa _machine and poured the first of what would turn out to be six cups, taking a long, satisfying swig of the hot beverage--the Sapphiran equivalent of coffee--before putting it down and settling herself back into the chair. She had made contact; now all she could do was wait for Captain Rosenberg to call back.

Setara did her best to remain optimistic, but as the hours passed, she found it increasingly difficult. She also found herself hoping that in the event the Federation chose to help them, that the Enterprise would be the one sent to help them. She had been told all about the Vulcan First Officer and the Human female Assistant Chief Medical Officer from Pietro, and prayed she would be able to meet them, see if they were anything like what he made them out to be. Of course, any help would be welcome, but it made the most sense to send someone already familiar with them and their culture. In the meantime, all she could do was hope for the best--and that she wouldn't be tracked down and captured before help could arrive.

When Christine told them about Amanda's stargram, McCoy and Uhura reacted much as Kirk had, vowing to work with them to make the reception a memorable one. After all, Spock didn't get married every day. Nor were they always able to get to Vulcan for a visit with his parents--two of the relatively small number of people on the planet who even tolerated Humans, much less welcomed them...and that was mainly because one of them _was_ Human. Meanwhile, all that needed to be done was wrap the wedding presents, prepare for the reception, then the communication and gift from Christine's parents.

Three days later, a mail freighter managed to catch up with the Enterprise--after the latter had slowed down to match the freighter's speed of warp two. It took a total of ten minutes between the time of initial contact and the freighter's departure. About halfway through that time, Christine was called to the mailroom to pick up a package from her parents. On this particular day, Spock was on the Gamma shift and would get off at 0800. Christine didn't go on duty until that afternoon. She called her husband as soon as she arrived back at their quarters.

"Spock here," the Vulcan answered. "What do you wish, Christine?"

"The package from my parents is here. Can you get away?"

"I have 27.6 minutes before I am off-shift," he told her. "I will return to you then."

"Can't you come a little earlier, Spock? I don't know if I can wait that long."

"It is not a life-and-death matter, my wife." His voice was tender but firm. "It can wait until I am off-duty."

Christine sighed, but knew from the tone of his voice that nothing she could say was going to change her husband's mind. His love for her was strong, but his sense of duty was stronger. She was disappointed but professional enough to understand.

"I'll see you when you're off-shift, then." She fought to keep disappointment out of her voice, but Spock heard it anyway.

"Be strong, _m'chejan_. I will be there shortly. Spock out." With that, the line went dead.

Christine sat down at the desk she shared with him in the work area of their quarters, the package sitting before her. She finally decided to take a shower in order to pass some time and cool off--in more ways than one. After putting on a lacy, sky-blue nightgown, she put on a pretty dressing-gown of quilted dark blue silk, then reseated herself at the desk, laying her head down on the package.

The next thing she knew was Spock's touch on her shoulder, gently shaking it to awaken her. "Christine, my wife, wake up."

Her head lifted, and her sleepy eyes afforded her a fuzzy vision of her husband's face. "Spock...? What...?"

"You fell asleep," he said. "At first I felt your disappointment at my refusal, then you seemed to calm down--and fell asleep approximately 15.3 minutes ago."

"Probably because I took a shower, then sat back down here, resting my cheek on the package from my parents. It must have relaxed me enough to fall asleep."

"Have you looked in the package yet?" he asked when he crossed fingers with her as she lifted her right hand.

Christine shook her head and lowered her hand. "No. I was waiting for you. I didn't want to open it unless you were here. That's why I called you."

"I could not dismiss my duties, my wife," he gently but firmly reminded her. "I am here now, so we can open the package and see what your parents have sent us." When she made no move to open it, he asked, "Do you need help?"

"No, I'll do it."

A short time later, a gaily wrapped present came into view, the shiny, blue paper with white wedding bells and ribbons catching the light. The tag read:

_To our darling daughter, Christine, and her new_ _husband..._

_May you and Spock have the best of everything throughout your life together._

_ All our love, your proud parents,  
Christopher and Ann Chapel_

She sat with the gift in her hands for some minutes until her husband's voice brought her back to reality.

"Are you not going to open it?"

"I was thinking we should wait until we reach Vulcan. If we open it now, the surprise would be spoiled."

"Could it not be re-wrapped?"

His suggestion took her by surprise, prompting her to raise both eyebrows as her eyes widened.

"I suppose we could. I'd just have to be careful in unwrapping."

And she was. It was as though she were handling a porcelain egg, one of the most fragile things in existence. The paper and ribbon were virtually intact. The box's top was taped down, and that was carefully slit. The tape would need to be replaced, but that was it. The box was opened, and among the layers of tissue paper and bubble wrap was a painting of a man and woman holding each other and seeming to look deeply into each other's eyes, tender smiles frozen on their lips.

The bronze plaque on it was entitled _Lovers_ by Heather Patricia Lawrence, a descendant of the early 20th-century author D.H. Lawrence. The renderings of the couple were so life-like that Spock and Christine almost expected them to speak. The only things they had seen which had been this detailed had been sophisticated holograms. This was art of the highest quality--truly a masterpiece. But it must have cost a fortune!

"It's beautiful, Spock," Christine commented after several moments of awestruck silence.

"Indeed, my wife," he agreed. "But it must have been very expensive. I have seen paintings similar to it, the cost of which started at five hundred credits."

"But, Spock, my parents aren't rich. How could they spend so much on us?"

"You are their only child, as I am the only child of my parents, are you not?"

Christine looked up at her husband, once again wide-eyed. "Yes. Why?"

"There is your answer," he told her. "They wanted their only child to have the nicest wedding gift they could afford."

"But five hundred credits is normally a week's salary for my father. They're retired now, on a fixed income."

"Perhaps they took out a loan or borrowed from a friend of theirs," he suggested. "Those are just two possibilities. To find out for sure, you would have to ask your mother. Meanwhile, you had best re-wrap the painting...then we shall go to dinner after I shower and change."

He surprised her by lifting her chin and giving her a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. Christine was too surprised and pleased to object. After carefully re-wrapping her parents' gift, she placed it in the package again. Having already showered, she made a quick change into a white linen, knee-length dress with short, lacy sleeves and sweetheart neckline. White flats completed the ensemble. She combed, then braided and pinned her hair into a chignon. IDIC earrings were her only jewelry other than her wedding ring.

Spock smiled appreciatively at his wife's beauty and the rose-_t'lerya_ perfume when he came out. He was dressed in a black, thigh-length tunic with full sleeves and Vulcan symbols of white. The pants matched the tunic, as did the knee-high boots; the long-sleeved turtleneck undershirt was silver-grey.

"You look most -- attractive, my wife." There was warmth in the Vulcan's dark eyes as he approached her, right hand lifted to cross fingers with her agian.

"Thank you, my love. Ready to go?"

"If you are," was the reply.

With that, the couple walked out the door. It swished closed behind them after Christine had grabbed her white shawl and evening purse off the nearby end table. The next couple of hours passed pleasantly, with the two talking and eating with their friends. After that, the couple returned to their quarters. Christine changed back into her nightgown, combing her shoulder-length hair until it was a soft, silken mass falling over her shoulders.

Spock wrote the stargram to his parents as she did so, not readying himself for bed until after he had finished it. She got into bed and waited for him. He usually wore his undergarments to bed because the temperature in their quarters was kept in the seventies to accommodate Christine. The only light was the flame-pot as he joined her in their bed after transmitting the stargram to his parents' computer and disrobing.

He took his wife into his arms and nuzzled his face into her fragrant hair before turning her head to face him and kiss her goodnight...but that was only the beginning. A short time later, their kisses and touches became intimate. Soon something primitive, yet tenderly passionate, transpired in the warm darkness of the honeymoon suite. (The couple had still only been married a total of two weeks.)

Now there were only two days until they reached Vulcan, where they would marry again and have the wedding reception after that. Christine's last thought before she and her husband fell asleep was how interesting it would be to note the reaction of Sarek and Spock to their Human wives' customs. She could hardly wait to see the looks on their faces when they first experienced a Terran wedding reception.

It was also easy to imagine what each would say about it once alone with their spouses. Until then, however, she simply intended to savor the warmth of her husband's closeness and the feel of his arms gently but securely around her. Only reluctantly did she get up to go on duty, quietly dressing before carefully kissing her sleeping spouse so as not to wake him, before slipping out.


	7. Chapter 14, 15, 16 & 17

**fourteen **

The two days passed swiftly, and almost before they knew it, they had arrived at Vulcan and Amanda was greeting them. Sarek was due back the following day from some diplomatic business on the planet Kaferia, in the Tau Ceti system. He was also bringing back some Kaferian apples, which resembled Terran pears and tasted much the same way. (Amanda enjoyed pears.)

The one feature which distinguished the alien fruit from its Terran counterpart was the green stripes on the fleshy part--but they didn't affect the taste. He hadn't told her he was planning to bring them, however, because he wanted to surprise her. She hadn't had any pears for a long time. The Kaferians had a thriving food production industry and the pear-like fruit was one of their major exports.

Most of the first day on Vulcan was spent bringing Amanda up-to-date on their marriage so far. In fact, the two women became so engrossed that Spock had to almost carry his wife bodily to their room when it came time for bed. Christine wasn't tired, but the look she got from her husband checked the objections on her lips. She reluctantly stood up and he joined her. The couple crossed fingers and bade his mother good evening before going to their room, but Christine had some choice words with her husband once they were behind the door.

"Spock, you knew I didn't want to stop talking--and that I wasn't tired. You would have known if I was. Why did you make me stop?"

The Vulcan frowned at his wife. "It would have been illogical to tire yourself simply for the sake of speaking longer with Mother. As it was, I could sense that _she_ was getting tired."

Christine sighed as they began to prepare for bed. "In other words, you weren't doing it just for me."

Spock sat down on the bed to remove his boots, but left his socks on. He then removed his pants and outer shirt, leaving his underwear on, then slid beneath the bedcovers. He then watched his wife as she finished undressing, then pulled her nightgown over her head. She usually slept barefoot and the nightgown was a loose, light summer one. He didn't answer her until she was in bed beside him and he was holding her...gently but securely, with her head cradled on his shoulder, as though she were fine porcelain.

"Mother has a tendency to overextend herself as well. I considered it the most logical means of getting you both to retire--or to use an old Terran expression, 'kill two birds with one stone'. But we had best sleep now, for my father is due back tomorrow morning."

Christine sighed again as she cradled her head on her husband's shoulder. "You're right, as usual. Why is that?"

"Because I am Vulcan," he replied, in an attempt at humor. "I am also your husband and Amanda Grayson's son. You are both ...very precious to me and I have no wish for anything to happen to either of you."

"Can't argue with that." Christine looked up at him and smiled.

Spock returned her smile before brushing her lips with his in a good-night kiss. "Good night, my wife. Sleep well."

"You too, my love."

With that, he told the voice-activated light to go out and put himself into a sleep-trance as the couple shared both physical warmth and emotional satisfaction.

Spock had been awake and dressed for about an hour when a quiet knock came on his bedroom door the following morning. His mother's soft voice told him that his father had just arrived back home.

"Thank you, Mother," he replied. "Christine and I will be out shortly."

"I'll tell him," came her reply from the other side of the door, then she left.

Spock turned around and approached the bed, where his wife still slept soundly. "Christine, my father has returned," he told her. "It is time to get up."

He repeated himself twice more before she stirred, then sat up, yawned and stretched before rubbing her eyes and getting out of bed to give her husband a good-morning kiss. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be right with you."

She gathered her clothing and disappeared into the bathroom. Spock heard the shower turn on, then off after about fifteen minutes. Quiet reigned for a time, then he heard the sound of her hair dryer. His time sense told him that twenty-five minutes had passed when she came out. They exchanged a smile and warm glance, then left their room together. The older couple was in the living room. Spock spoke to alert them to his and Christine's presence.

"Father...Mother."

Sarek and Amanda turned their heads; the older Vulcan nodded in the younger couple's direction and Amanda smiled. "Amanda has said that none of you have eaten breakfast yet. It is therefore logical that we all eat."

Within a quarter of an hour, everyone was eating. It was a silent meal, in keeping with the Vulcan custom which dictated that no conversation was to take place until after the food was finished. As soon as the meal was over and the dishes washed, the four gathered in the living room, making themselves comfortable on the two sofas set at right angles to each other. Each was trying to think of how to start a conversation when the vidphone beeped to indicate an incoming call.

"Excuse me," the older Vulcan said, getting up to answer it. The other three heard the voice of the Vulcan matriarch, T'Pau, in response to Sarek's inquiry.

"I wish to know when the _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_ ceremony for Spock may take place," she stated. "I have a very busy schedule today, so it is logical that it be performed at the earliest possible time."

Spock could have sworn that he detected a touch of irritation in the matriarch's usually emotionless voice.

"I have just arrived back from being off-planet, but it should not take long for us to prepare," Sarek assured her.

"How long?" came the curt question.

"Approximately one hour," was the answer.

"Very well. I shall expect the four of you at the Arena of Marriage within the hour." The vidphone screen went blank.

The Vulcan Ambassador needed only to give a penetrating look in the direction of the other three for them to act instantly. Spock contacted Kirk and told him to report to the Arena of Marriage within the hour, which would allow him time to shower and change into his dress uniform, then went to  
change clothes himself. Amanda and Christine went off together; the former gave her daughter-in-law her own wedding dress.

She had altered it as soon as she learned of the granting of permission for the Vulcan wedding (and Christine's measurements, which the younger woman had given in a note she had sent to Amanda shortly after Spock had transmitted his last stargram). It was a simple, two-tone blue affair with a modest scoop neck, capped sleeves and the front sewn with a point just beneath the bosom. The one thing which dressed it up was a sheer, shawl-like thing, held in place by a silk _t'lerya_ flower.

The two women were about the same weight, but Christine was taller and Amanda fuller in the breast and hips. Christine's hair was put up in a Vulcan style similar to the one she had worn for the shipboard wedding, but not as elaborate. There wasn't enough time...nor hair, for that matter. Spock changed into a navy blue and forest-green outfit of thigh-length tunic and pants, topped off with soft black boots.

Amanda and Christine embraced when it came time to leave. "I wish you could come," the younger woman whispered to the older one.

"I know. So do I, but it's all right. You can tell me about it when you get back. You'd better get going now. Even in the aircar, it's a good twenty-minute flight away."

Upon releasing Christine, Amanda turned to her son, patiently waiting near the doorway leading out of the living room and into the entry foyer.

"I, too, 'wish' you could come, Mother. It is...most regrettable that you cannot--just as it is that Dr. McCoy and Miss Uhura cannot be present."

"I understand, Spock, just as I'm sure they do. It's not your fault. The main thing is that you will be married as you wish. You'd better go now. Everyone's waiting."

"Very well."

Spock wanted to embrace his mother, but dared not with his father present. Instead, he merely reached to brush her cheek with his fingertips and smiled, if only with his eyes.

She smiled and patted his hand. "I'll see you when you return, my son." Her voice was soft and tender. She then turned and disappeared through the doorway leading to the hallway and rear of the house.

Spock felt her pain despite his shields and fought against calling her back, unbidden tears stinging his own eyes even as he heard Christine call to him.

"Spock, we've got to go."

The Vulcan turned back toward his wife, lifting his right hand to cross fingers with her upon reaching her side. With that, they followed Sarek out to the aircar. The elder Vulcan drove because he knew of a "shortcut" which would get them to the Arena a few minutes sooner. That was fortunate, for precious time had been lost in making farewells, but Sarek could not bring himself to berate his wife, son or daughter-in-law for their emotionalism. Their actions may have been illogical, but it was necessary for them, so he allowed it. At least this time around. What mattered was that his son and the latter's intended would have a proper Vulcan wedding, in keeping with tradition.

En route, Christine felt her husband's pain at having to leave the mother he loved behind. She reached to squeeze his hand and he looked up at her, velvet eyes large and sad.

_I'm sorry your mother couldn't come to our wedding, my love. I'd have liked to have her there, too.  
_

_Thank you, my wife._ She felt his gratitude and unspoken love.

_Do you think the Doctor and Uhura would be pleased to know that I would have liked to have them at our wedding as much as you?  
_

_Very pleased, my husband. Now, please don't feel so badly. I hurt when you hurt, you know. _

After that, the couple simply held hands, taking comfort and strength from the other's touch and nearness as they sat beside Sarek in the wide front seat of the aircar for the remainder of their trip to the Arena of Marriage.

Kirk was waiting when they arrived, but knew enough not to approach his friend. He would keep quiet until he was needed. Spock struck the gong once, then twice--the cue for T'Pau and the rest of the marriage party to appear. Christine was with them. (Sarek had taken her to where they were waiting, then joined Kirk in observing the spectacle before the latter moved up to join Spock.)

After T'Pau's sedan chair had been placed on a raised platform, she summoned Spock, then Christine, who was nearby, to stand before her. She put a hand on his face in a mental greeting, then greeted the others with the Vulcan salute. The couple returned it, then T'Pau looked in Kirk's direction, gesturing to him to come forward.

The Captain did so, looking at his Vulcan friend out of the corner of his eye as he moved up beside him, wanting to smile reassuringly at him but not daring to do so in the presence of T'Pau or the other Vulcans in the marriage party.

"So, Kirk, we meet again."

"Yes, ma'am," the Human replied, bowing his head.

The Vulcan Ambassador simply remained quiet and observed his son's wedding in the shade of one of the stone monoliths surrounding the Arena.

"I trust thee are aware that thee are only here in deference to Sarek and the fact that it is Spock's right by law for thee to be present." T'Pau's manner was almost haughty, her head held regally.

"I am," the Captain replied, facing her determinedly.

"Can you assure me that this wedding will be completed, that there will be no challenge, as there was with Spock's first bondmate, T'Pring?"

Kirk was indignant at the insinuation that Spock was to blame for the challenge, but couldn't show it. "Yes," he told her, with such conviction that not even T'Pau dared to question him.

"Very well. We shall continue," she announced, turning back to the couple standing before her. In keeping with tradition, she addressed Spock first. At this point, a white-clad woman sat down near the gong and proceeded to beat rhythmically on a small drum she held in her lap; the small bells held by two of the other Vulcans tinkled intermittently.

"Spock of Vulcan, son of Sarek, are thee prepared to honor and cherish thy chosen wife and bondmate, Christine of Terra, remaining with her and whatever children thee may have for as long as thee both shall live, never and always touching and touched?"

"I am." The Vulcan's voice held as much conviction as Kirk's had, prompting both T'Pau and Sarek to raise an eyebrow. A moment later, the matriarch turned toward Christine.

"Christine of Terra, what is thy father's name?"

"Christopher," she replied.

"Christine, daughter of Christopher, are thee prepared to honor and cherish thy chosen husband and bondmate, Spock of Vulcan, remaining with him and whatever children thee may bear him as long as thee both shall live--never and always touching and touched?"

"I am." The Human woman's tone was emphatic almost to the point of defiance, as if she was daring T'Pau to challenge the sincerity of her feelings for Spock, and she was sure that the Vulcan matriarch noticed.

Christine exchanged glances with Kirk and they gave each other a quick smile before their eyes came to rest on their respective husband and friend. A short time later, the drum-beats and bells ended, signaling the imminent conclusion of the wedding. Only one more thing remained to be said, then  
Spock and Christine would be officially married.

"We thank you, T'Pau. May peace and good health be yours," Spock said, not really meaning the words but having to say them because they were part of the ceremony.

The matriarch acknowledged him with a nod, then her attendants carried her off in her throne-like chair as though it and its occupant weighed nothing. The drum-woman and bell-ringers followed in their wake. Only when they were out of sight did Kirk dare to speak to his friend and the latter's wife.

"I'm glad that at least I was able to be here, even if Bones and the others couldn't, Spock," the Captain told him with a smile as he congratulated the newlyweds.

"As are we, Jim." The Vulcan looked to his wife for confirmation and got it. In view of Sarek's presence, Kirk didn't congratulate Spock as he wanted to--but did kiss Christine on the cheek.

"Come back with us to our family home, Jim. I am sure Mother would be more than happy to see you again."

Kirk smiled and nodded. "I'd be delighted, my friend. Then when it comes time for the reception, we'll call for Bones and Uhura."

The Human would have sworn that Spock looked sheepish at the mention of the Doctor and Communications Officer, but he couldn't have forgotten that they were supposed to come to the reception...or could he? If that were the case, the Captain would have to keep that knowledge to himself, because they would probably be offended if they knew.

"Yes, of course, Jim. They must be there."

A short time later, everyone joined Sarek and they all left the Arena of Marriage in the aircar. They arrived at Spock's family home a quarter-hour after that.

**fifteen **

Once all were situated in the living room, Kirk moved off into one corner for privacy, but in a manner so he could see what was going on. The others waited for him to call McCoy and Uhura, for the party couldn't "get off the ground," as it were, until they were present. Kirk had also asked McCoy to bring his gifts to the couple as well as the Doctor's own...though it would be hard to hide some of them, like a live Vulcan _t'lerya _plant in full bloom.

The best he could do as to wrapping it was put a large white bow on the equally large pot which contained it, including a hard copy of how to care for it.

He had already taken steps to set aside a portion of the ship's Botanical Gardens to accommodate the plant, special climate controls and all--but he would have to inform Spock of this. Other than Spock himself, only their friends or Christine would have any reason to go in. The booklet on its care was mainly for the Humans, because Spock would surely know how to care for it.

He opened his communicator. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

Sulu's voice came back. "_Enterprise_. Sulu here."

"Have Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Commander Uhura report to the Transporter Room immediately. They'll know why."

"Yes, sir."

He heard McCoy's voice a short time later. "We're in the Transporter Room right now, Jim."

"With the gifts?"

"Naturally."

"Ready to beam down?"

"As ready as I'll ever be to have my molecules scattered around by that fool contraption," the Doctor grumbled.

"But you'll do it for Spock and Christine," Kirk finished.

"Yes--but if you breathe a word to Spock, I'll deny it. He'll think I've gone soft."

Kirk chuckled. "Don't worry, Bones. Your secret is safe with me. Now, will you two get down here before I have to drag you down? Everybody's waiting."

"Be there in a minute, Jim."

Kirk closed his communicator; barely a minute later, McCoy and Uhura stood before him, their arms full of gifts and their backs turned to the others.

"Where can we put these gifts temporarily?" asked Uhura.

"Follow me."

The two new arrivals accompanied Kirk down the hall to Sarek and Amanda's room, where the gifts from Spock and Christine's parents were sitting on the bed. The various gifts from the couple's closest friends were placed alongside them, the plant on the bedside chair.

"Isn't this Sarek and Amanda's room?" Uhura asked as she looked around.

"It'll do for a temporary hiding place," the Captain dismissed. "Now, let's get back to the others."

They rejoined the rest in the living room a short time later. The Vulcans nodded in acknowledgment as they entered, while the Humans smiled. McCoy broke the silence. With that, a voice-activated holovid camera set up at the entrance to the living room began recording, also programmed to turn off at a designated time.

"What are we going to do until it comes time to open the presents?"

"The first thing we're going to do is have lunch, then we can get to the presents," Amanda announced. "Don't worry, it's not anything fancy. Everyone can eat where they're sitting."

Spock and Christine were on one sofa, holding hands; Sarek and Amanda were on the other, along with Uhura on the side closest to Christine. Kirk sat next to Spock; McCoy stood near them and behind the sofa until a folding chair and tray was set up for him next to Kirk. Trays were also set up at each place while Amanda went to get the food.

Again, the meal was quiet, in keeping with Vulcan tradition--but once the meal was over, the wedding cake was brought in on a wheeled tray, a two-tier affair with white frosting and simple floral decorations, along with statuettes of a bride and groom on top. Sarek decided once again that it was logical to relax restrictions...if only a little.

Christine stood up and pulled Spock after her, knowing what was expected of them. The Vulcan didn't know just what was going on, but was sure he would soon find out. Upon seeing the cake, the couple was touched beyond their ability to speak, but did manage to cut and feed the first piece to each other. The others helped themselves to it, and all either stood or sat around eating and drinking either tulac or fruit punch after toasting the bridal couple and wishing them happiness.

The simple fare they had had for lunch--deviled eggs, sliced ham or roast beef for the Humans and assorted vegetables, pasta and fruit for the Vulcans--offset any adverse effects the cake's sweetness might have had on the latter's physiology. Vulcans were not into sweets as a rule, and rarely ate very much unless it was offered to them.

Once all the eating, drinking and toasting was behind them, Amanda gestured to Kirk and Uhura. The Captain also gave the Doctor a meaningful look, so the latter three went to Sarek and Amanda's room to get the wedding presents. Spock was surprised, then pleased, upon seeing the live _t'lerya_ plant. Kirk answered his friend's unspoken question when the Vulcan looked to him for an explanation as to how he had gotten hold of one...and most importantly, how one could be cared for on the ship.

"From your mother, of course. She gave me one from her garden, also including a booklet on how to care for the plant. I have ordered a portion of the Botanical Gardens set aside, specially climate-controlled, to accommodate it. I insisted on paying her the going rate for it, however. She says they're pretty rare, found mostly in gardens, and therefore expensive...but I figured you two were worth it. After all, you're only getting married this one time."

Spock and his wife looked at each other in confusion. "We have been married _twice_," said the Vulcan.

"I meant that you're only marrying one woman," Kirk explained.

Spock relaxed as he and Christine crossed fingers, but the most memorable moment was when he broke off one flower from the plant and presented it to Christine.

"Smell it," he told her.

She did so, then looked up at him and smiled. "That reminds me of the perfume I wore at our first wedding."

"This is the Vulcan flower it comes from," he said. _And you are every bit as beautiful, m'chejan, _he thought to Christine, the warmth of his consciousness embracing hers.

_Thank you, my love._ Her cheeks turned deep pink.

_I am stating a fact. _He seemed almost insulted for a moment, then it seemed as though the couple had forgotten there was anyone else around.

"Hey, come back to Earth--or Vulcan, as the case may be--you two. You've still got quite a few presents to open," McCoy broke in.

Spock shot him an irritated look, then turned back to Kirk, who seemed to be the one handing out the presents. The next, by an odd coincidence, was the Doctor's, a small, rectangular object about half an inch thick. It could only be a book of some kind. The Vulcan gave McCoy, then Kirk, a questioning look as the gift was revealed--a well-preserved copy of _The Prophet_ by Kahlil Gibran.

Both it and Uhura's gift had been purchased at an import shop specializing in Terran merchandise. Spock also noted several spots in the book which had been specially marked when he skimmed through it.

"The marked passages were favorites of myself and my ex-wife when we were first married. I didn't take them to heart as I should have, but I hope you and Christine do, Spock. Don't make the mistake I did and let a good woman slip through your fingers."

"No danger of that," Christine answered for them.

Spock seemed almost bewildered, even as he sensed the Doctor's concern and affection, and Christine gave her husband a reassuring smile. Uhura's gift was next; she handed it to Christine. Both gave her a strange look after the unwrapping. It was a statue of a tall, slender black woman in a flowing gown.

"It's an African artifact--a likeness of the Bantu goddess of marriage. There's an old legend that whenever a newlywed couple is given this artifact, their marriage will remain solid, no matter what happens in their lives. My parents have one, and they've been happily married for over thirty-five years, so it must work."

Again, the couple's faces softened into understanding, and Christine thanked everyone for caring enough to give them gifts. From Amanda, there was a large plaque, which she had ordered from Earth. On the polished wood there was decoupaged what looked like parchment, upon which a portion of the 13th chapter of First Corinthians in the New Testament was written. It read:

_Love suffers long, and is kind; love envies not and does not vaunt itself; nor is it puffed up. Love does not engage in unseemly behavior, does not seek its own, and is not easily provoked--nor does it think evil. It rejoices not in iniquity but in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love never fails. And now abides faith, hope, and love: but the greatest of these is love. _

Christine read silently, sharing with Spock the whole time, and though he considered it overly emotional, he got the gist of what the lines meant and both of the couple looked up at Amanda, gratitude shining from their eyes. She returned a modest smile, her head bowing even as her cheeks turned pink.

They read excerpts from _The Prophet_ next, the passages on love and marriage. As before, Christine read silently. Again, Spock considered it overly emotional, but understood what the author was trying to convey--and the couple looked up at McCoy, gratitude in their eyes. He nodded and smiled back. They identified most with the following statements:

LOVE:

_When love beckons to you, follow him, even though his ways are hard and steep. And when he speaks to you, believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams. For even as love crowns you, so shall he crucify you. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.  
_

_Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed; for love is sufficient unto love. And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love, and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:  
_

_To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love and to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn and give thanks for another day of loving; to rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; to return home at eventide with gratitude; and then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips. _

MARRIAGE:

_You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. But let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of Heaven dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bondage of love; let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.  
_

_Fill each other's cup, but drink not from the same cup. Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together; be joyous, but let each one of you be alone even as the strings of the lute are alone, though they quiver with the same music.  
_

_Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping, for only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, but not too near together: for the pillars of the temple stand apart and the oak and cypress trees grow not in each other's shadow. _

The couple also found the passage on children most profound, but decided to wait until they had become parents to discuss it. And it was no longer a case of if, but a matter of when it would happen. Spock also noted the passage on friendship, vowing to read it and discuss it with his two friends at the first opportunity.

FRIENDSHIP:

_Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. He is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger and you seek him for peace. When your friend speaks his mind, you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "aye." And when he is silent, your heart ceases not to listen to his heart.  
_

_For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, desires and expectations are born and shared with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, you grieve not, for that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence...and let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. Let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood, also.  
_

_For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship, let there be laughter and sharing of pleasures. For it is in the dew of little things that the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. _

It came as a surprise to both Spock and Christine when the Vulcan was handed a gift from Sarek. Like Spock, the older Vulcan wasn't one to give gifts--but if he did, it was likely to be one reflecting Vulcan in some way. This gift was no exception ..a holographic IDIC which had been purchased in a "gift shop" on Vulcan and which could be placed on one wall of their quarters, where each would see it every day.

"Thank you, Father," Spock said, meeting his father's eyes with gratitude.

Sarek nodded in acknowledgment with a half-smile. Lastly, the final wedding gift from Christopher and Ann Chapel had been opened. It had been bought from a noted art gallery in Ohio's capital of Columbus. All "oohed" and "ahhed" over the painted masterpiece, even the Vulcans in their own way.

Just then, the subspace radio Sarek kept in his living room began beeping incessantly. He hurried to answer it even as Kirk's communicator began to sound off. The Captain opened it to hear Scott's frantic voice.

"There's been an urgent summons from Starfleet Command, sir! Somethin' bad has happened on Sapphira VII. We've got t' go back there immediately!"

Kirk and Spock looked at each other, dread in their eyes. The Vulcan then looked at his wife, who knew what must have transpired to prompt this distress call. "Oh, dear God," she whispered. "Sapphira's done it again."

But Spock wasn't thinking of all the Sapphiran woman had put him through while he was there. He was more concerned with the safety of a man who was the closest thing he'd had to a friend while there. Pietro. A half-Human, half-alien like himself, a kind and gentle man who nonetheless could fight like a tiger, given sufficient reason. Illogical though his worry was, he couldn't help it. Nor could he avoid a smidgen of hope that the unlucky man who was the object of Sapphira's wrath had not been Pietro.

He had already been subjected to enough at Sapphira's hands without enduring the abuse which any man who displeased Sapphira would get. The beatings, starvation, prison--and worst of all, castration. Spock shuddered at how close he himself had come to it. If it hadn't been for Christine... The Vulcan forced the thought from his mind even as he rose with the others, his hand tightly clasping that of his wife.

"We'll be right up, Scotty. Kirk out." The Captain turned toward Amanda. "I'm sorry we have to leave like this, Amanda, but it's an emergency. Spock, Bones, Christine, Uhura, stand by to beam back to the ship."

Christine released her husband's hand to give her mother-in-law a quick kiss and final hug. "We'll be back for the gifts. Hold them for us." Moments later she had dematerialized, along with her husband and three other shipmates.

"Of course. You know I will," the older woman said, though she couldn't be sure if Christine had heard her.

Sarek returned five minutes later. "My wife, there has been an emergency on Sapphira VII. The _Enterprise_ has been called to investigate and assist."

"I know," Amanda said. "Captain Kirk just heard from them himself, and everyone beamed up. They've probably warped out of orbit by now."

Sarek nodded in reluctant agreement even as he continued speaking. "The Federation Council has also called me in to mediate."

Amanda showed no surprise. "And you were hoping to get a ride from the _Enterprise_." There was a raised eyebrow, then another nod, accompanied by a grim look. "Won't hurt to try, though I'm pretty sure they're gone by now."

The older Vulcan went back to the subspace radio and attempted to contact the _Enterprise_; Amanda followed him.

To their surprise and relief, the ship hadn't left yet, but _would_ leave any minute now, according to Uhura.

The call was transferred to Kirk, who said, "Kirk here. What do you want, Sarek? I'm in a hurry." The thin veneer of politeness in the Captain's voice barely concealed his impatience, but Sarek understood and remained unruffled.

"I have been summoned to Sapphira VII to mediate, Captain. I would like to ask if you could transport me there. It would take too long to obtain passage by commercial means."

There was silence for a minute, then Kirk said, "Stand by for beamup...then we've got to get out of here."

Amanda had been sorely tempted to throw herself into the transporter beam and her husband's arms in order to accompany him, but even as much as she wanted to, she knew she had to stay behind. For several reasons, not the least of which was her promise to look after the gifts her son and his wife had left in her care. Who would do it if she were gone? No one.

It was her duty to remain behind, even if all she could do was wait and worry. Even at that, Amanda knew that news would be forthcoming at the earliest opportunity. If not from Sarek, from Spock and the others. It was up to her to "keep the home fires burning," as it were, for everyone's sake--and she intended to do just that.

For an interminable time, the _Enterprise_ streaked through space at her maximum safe speed. There was no time to lose. Any wasted time meant more lives ruined. While en route, Kirk had briefed Sarek on the original mission to Sapphira VII, allowing him to read the reports Spock and Christine had submitted.

The Ambassador had contacted a female associate of his who would work with him during his mediation; unfortunately, she would have to employ commercial means in order to reach Sapphira VII, which would take several days. Until then, he would be unable to approach the Sapphirans.

Kirk hoped it would not be necessary to go into detail on what his Vulcan friend had told him regarding what he'd had to do in order to obtain the mining rights. The Captain felt sure that Spock would sooner die than tell his father anything about that part of the mission.

"Are you certain that you have no further information which might assist me in my mediation?"

Kirk wished he could lie, but knew that Sarek would sense it, being as much a telepath as Spock, so he didn't try. "There _is_ further information, but in order to provide it, I would have to betray a confidence Spock made to me--and I can't do that. Please try to understand." The Captain sighed, then spoke again. "Nor do I have any assurance that it would be of any help to you, even if I did tell you."

Sarek allowed himself a sigh. He didn't want to admit that Kirk might be right, and couldn't force him to betray Spock's confidence. He had enough problems with his son as it was. It would be illogical to even try; it would only make them more stubborn. Neither the Human nor younger Vulcan could be budged where loyalty to the other was concerned.

"Very well. I will not pressure you further."

Kirk relaxed and the two resumed their discussion.

Back on Vulcan, Amanda fought off the twin spectres of loneliness and worry as she cleaned up the remains of the meal and gathered up the presents to Spock and Christine, placing them in the room where they had been staying. Tears misted her eyes as she thought of them--but most of all, she thought of her husband.

She prayed that the mission would go well, but what was most important to her was that they returned in one piece. Starfleet duty had never been particularly safe, as Spock, Christine and the others could testify. Injuries and deaths were an unfortunate yet unavoidable fact of life among starship crews. They would be in danger as long as they were on active duty, but it was their choice--a choice she had to live with. She was thankful to have Sarek and his strength to sustain her.

Amanda smiled upon discovering the bag of Kaferian apples Sarek had placed in their refrigerator. How thoughtful and caring he was...at least of her. She couldn't help wishing that he and Spock could have had a closer relationship, but knew even as she thought it that if it was to be, they had to want it themselves. Nothing she could do would change their minds.

**sixteen**

It had taken the better part of a week to reach Sapphira VII originally, but their increased speed of warp six had cut their ETA by half, to two-and-a-half days. Still, a lot of things could happen in two-and-a-half days...things that neither Kirk, Spock, or Christine cared to think about.

In fact, Christine made herself think instead of the gifts she would get for Spock, Nyota and McCoy, acting on Pietro's suggestion that she check on the planetside businesses and crafts shops he had told her about if she got the chance. Possibly Kirk would receive a gift as well, if only for the fact that he was such a good friend to Spock.

The Vulcan had lived virtually without love or friendship; it was a wonder he had turned out as well as he had. That was due mainly to his mother, Kirk and herself, though McCoy was also a trusted, caring friend. But it seemed that it was the Captain and his brotherly love for Spock which had made it easier for the Vulcan to show emotion, even occasionally, and accept her feelings--if only up to a point. For that, she would always be grateful to Kirk, though for a long time she had felt a mixture of hurt and jealousy.

Kirk had always been the recipient of Spock's rare shows of affection. She and McCoy dared not get near the Vulcan or show their feelings unless it was on a professional basis, like when he was ill or injured. It was so unfair, when they cared just as much. Many nights she privately cried bitter tears, even while forcing herself to display a public facade of detached professionalism, only daring to speak of her pain to Uhura. She often had to paste on a smile and act like it didn't matter when Spock treated her like a piece of Sickbay furniture.

Kirk, on the other hand, was able to sit beside him if he was ill or injured, hold his hand and comfort him...or share off-duty time in pursuits like 3-D chess, playing his Vulcan harp or eating together. Sometimes, though this was rare, they even went on shore leave together! There were even times she'd had to leave the room because she couldn't bear the hurt any longer.

Once, however, during one of Spock's occasional confinements to Sickbay, while he was asleep, Kirk had looked up at her and their eyes had met. The Captain's eyes had been full of empathy and understanding of their mutual love, but at least he could show his feelings...and unlike hers, his love  
was returned. Still, it had seemed to indicate that he understood how she felt and his heart had gone out to her--but not even Kirk could force Spock to acknowledge her. She could only hope that Spock would one day learn to appreciate all she had gone through for his sake. But it was usually McCoy who came after her to offer a comforting hug and reassuring words.

This had been the way life had gone for the eight years she had been aboard...until the mission at Sapphira VII had turned everything around. Now she understood that Spock had needed that time and experience in showing friendship before he could even attempt to show anything more, especially for a woman. As hard as the wait had been, it had been more than worth it once they had finally gotten together.

They arrived back at Sapphira VII the following day. Kirk, Spock, Christine and three redshirts beamed down to meet with the one who had sent the distress call to Starfleet in her home. The woman's friend had been an associate of Sapphira's until Pietro had confessed his love for her.

They had even attempted to run away together, but Sapphira suspected what was going on and had had two of her male underlings follow and capture the runaway lovers. The two were currently incarcerated, having been denied food and other necessary comforts for several days. If Kirk and company hadn't arrived when they did, Pietro and his paramour would have been either castrated or killed, if not both. They would probably also need to protect Setara, because she was putting her own life on the line in order to help her friend and the man the latter loved.

Nothing else will happen to them if I can help it, Kirk vowed, exchanging a glance with the Vulcan which told him his friend felt the same way...as did Christine. They also recalled the large and strong, but gentle and caring man they had come to know and consider an ally, if not a friend, during the two weeks of their mission three months ago. If there was any way for them to prevent it, no more would happen to him.

"Is there any way you could get us to them?" Kirk asked.

Setara looked dubious. "I believe so, but the less people who accompany me, the less suspicious it will seem." She gave Spock and Christine meaningful looks. "You, Spock, and Christine. You have been here before. And at least one of you must wear native clothing."

Spock and his wife exchanged apprehensive looks, which were not lost on Setara. "There is a caftan-like outfit which certain native women wear when they become pregnant. You may wear that. Technically, it is incorrect for a woman who is not pregnant to wear it, but there is no time for arguments."

The Doctor had also felt her husband's relief that he would n't have to parade around all but naked again. But he did need to cover his uniform shirt with a V-necked Sapphiran winter tunic, a thigh-length, long-sleeved affair belonging to Henri, Setara's consort, who was about Spock's height and weight.

Setara was unable to help noticing how Spock and Christine treated each other. "We're married," Christine told her when the women's eyes met, refusing to elaborate for Spock's sake.

Setara nodded in acceptance, not pressing for further information. "Come with me, then...Christine. The rest of you wait here."

Ten minutes later, Christine and Setara returned, the Doctor's hair having been into a hasty semblance of the native style and she was now dressed in a pastel blue-green, caftan-like garment.

"Are you two ready?" Setara asked.

"As ready as we'll ever be," Christine replied, asking her husband with her eyes if he were.

Spock nodded and she relaxed. Setara smiled and turned, beginning to walk away. Spock and Christine followed her after the Vulcan exchanged one last glance with Kirk, assuring his friend and Captain with his eyes that they would return as soon as they could...but knowing even as he did so, that there was nothing to stop Jim and the Security officers from discreetly following.

Since Sapphira was away on a trip to another province (or so they believed), they managed to make it there with little more than some fast talking. After going down several levels, they came to a single jail cell door. Spock surmised that this was the place for solitary prisoners. The heavily barred door was unlocked and the couple was ushered into a dank, dark cell. Only a small window let in any light, and there was a short, narrow cot chained to the far wall.

Pietro sat upon it, a thin, ragged blanket his only covering. His thick, dark hair was matted and dirty, his body unwashed. There were also black-and-blue marks on his face and upper body. He had a shiner on his right eye, which was swollen shut, and there was blood on his mouth from a split lip. A one-and-a-half-inch gash oozed blood above his left eye. Neither of the _Enterprise_ couple cared to even speculate on the wounds he might have which they couldn't see.

Pietro looked up at the sound of Spock's voice, as if unable to believe his ears. His good eye widened. "Spock! By the twin suns of Argelius, is it really you?" The prisoner winced as the pain of his battered body made itself felt upon his attempt to reach the Vulcan. "I never expected to lay eyes upon you or hear your voice again."

Spock lifted a hand to stop him, his voice full of regret. "I am sorry this has happened, Pietro. We shall do everything we can to set things right here again. My ship and all its resources are backed by the Federation and will be used to assist you and your people in every way possible."

Pietro smiled carefully, so as not to aggravate his split lip. "I do hope so, my friend. These last...several days have been--very difficult for me to endure."

"I'm sure they were, but your ordeal won't last much longer if we can help it." This time it was Christine who spoke.

Pietro's good eye widened again, as did his lips in the semblance of a smile. His injuries sharply reminded him of their presence, but it was worth it. "Christine, you're here."

Her voice was soft and reassuring. "Of course. I care about you, too. Spock and I and our shipmates will help you all we can and see that Sapphira is punished for what she's done to you. Can you tell us why you tried to run away with another woman? Surely you know what Sapphira would do to you if she caught up with you."

The Doctor's eyes were soft with sympathy and she wished she could help Pietro--or at least ease his physical discomfort. But his injuries weren't life-threatening, so they would have to wait. She could only hope that things would get straightened out before Sapphira took it into her head to castrate him. Only Heaven knew what had happened to Sareenah, Setara's friend, the woman Pietro had cared enough for to risk Sapphira's wrath and attempt to run away with.

Christine had been too occupied with keeping Spock safe during their mission to consider what might happen to a woman who got in Sapphira's way. Even now, it was something she didn't care to think about...but she would have to at some point if they were to be of any help here.

"I observed the way the two of you acted and wanted to have such a relationship myself, whatever the risk." Pietro sounded so serious that both Spock and Christine had to believe him.

"It couldn't be worth beatings, prison and near-starvation," Christine insisted.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew Sareenah. She is everything I have ever wanted." Pietro's face softened. "Please do all you can for her, too. I can endure whatever is forced upon me, but her only crime--if you can call it that--is loving me. She doesn't deserve this." His voice held a mixture of anger and pain.

"We will, Pietro. You have our word on that." Christine gave him a reassuring smile, though they would have helped Sareenah even if Pietro hadn't asked.

The Argelian's dark mood seemed to lift. "That's good enough for me. Will you go see Sareenah now? Tell her I sent you, that you're friends of mine."

"If that's what you want," Christine said.

"I would appreciate it. Oh, and one more thing..."

"Yes?" she prompted.

"Please forgive my asking, but are you and Spock--still... well...involved?"

Christine smiled. "We are," she confirmed. "In fact, we're married."

Pietro smiled slightly. "I'm pleased for both of you. I hope it is in the stars for me, too...with Sareenah."

"Take care, Pietro," she told him as she and Spock turned to leave.

"Live long and prosper," Spock said with a half-smile and salute in the prisoner's direction before his right hand moved to cross fingers with his wife.

Pietro's good eye again widened at the sight and his grimy face wore a questioning look.

"It is a Vulcan gesture of...affection between husband and wife," Spock explained, then said, "Be strong, Pietro. We will do all we can for you and Sareenah, and see that justice is done."

"Thank you." The other man's head bowed in appreciation.

Spock and Christine departed the cell and rejoined Setara waiting outside, leaving its lone occupant with a much lighter heart for their having come, and far more optimistic as to his probable fate.

**seventeen**

The women's section of the prison was a good distance away, but a short time later, they reached the equally dark, dank cell wherein languished a naked and shivering, thin and unwashed young woman on the thin pallet covering the bed chained to the far wall. But even the deplorable conditions could not conceal her delicate beauty--her tired, hazel eyes, upturned patrician nose, cupid's-bow lips and brownish-blonde hair, now in unkempt strings.

"Sareenah?" Christine's voice was infinitely gentle and soothing.

The grimy waif in front of her raised her head; her eyes widened at the sight of the nicely dressed, friendly-looking couple. "W-who are you?" she stammered in a soft, dovelike voice.

"We're friends of Pietro's. We're here to help you."

Christine stepped forward, unable to resist putting her hand on Sareenah's dirty cheek. The unhappy young woman held the hand there, tears filling her eyes at the mention of Pietro. Soft sobs tore themselves from her throat and tears began falling. For several minutes Sareenah was unable to stop.

"You're the people from the Federation ship, aren't you?" she asked after composing herself and wiping her eyes, her tears having made clean streaks on her grimy face. "The Assistant Chief Medical Officer and First Officer?" Her eyes widened further upon noting Spock's ears and exotic look. "You're a... Vulcan? But how could you possibly have endured this society?"

"That has no bearing on this situation." Spock's voice was equally gentle. "What matters is that we will get you out of here. Pietro, too, and see to it that Sapphira is punished for what she has done."

"It doesn't matter what she's done to me. I just wish Pietro hadn't had to suffer because we fell in love." Sareenah wrapped herself in a thin blanket--her only covering--as best she could.

Spock couldn't help but feel empathy for her because of his own ordeal at Sapphira's hands. "Your suffering will end soon. Our ship stands ready to assist you with anything you might need."

Sareenah sighed. "The best thing for you to do would be to remove Sapphira from power. She is selfish and sadistic. She had no right to treat Pietro and me so shabbily simply because we fell in love. She may be incapable of loving anyone but herself, but not all of us are like that. Pietro told me what happened when the two of you were here, what Sapphira did to you. But _you_ got away--and even managed to defy her and live to tell about it."

"Which is more than you will," a cold, haughty voice broke in. "No one makes a fool of me and gets away with it."

Spock and Christine whirled to face Sapphira; her face was a mask of malevolence.

The planetary leader looked them up and down. "Well, don't you two look sweet! What are you back here for? You already have the mining rights, and I assure you that I have honored the treaty."

"That is not why we are here this time," Spock replied evenly.

"Then why...? Don't tell me, let me guess. You heard of what happened--how Pietro and this little tart carried on behind my back, then tried to run away together. They're receiving the appropriate punishment according to law, so you can't do thing one about it." Her voice became silky as she sashayed over to the Vulcan.

"Of course, this leaves the position of favorite open, Spock. In spite of what you and your consort did to me, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. You're still the most attractive man I've ever met and I would be very content to have you as my last lover. In fact, for you I would even consider marriage...something I've never before offered to any man."

"A most flattering proposition, My Lady, but quite impossible. My--affections are already engaged." The Vulcan's refusal was coolly polite but firm. "And even if they were not, it would still be impossible, after what you have done to me."

Sapphira looked Christine over with undisguised contempt. "You would rather stay with this do-gooder? What can she give you that I can't?"

Spock's reply was almost smug. "Something you could not understand. Love."

"Indeed." The word was flat, toneless. "Then I'll have to find someone else."

Even so, both Spock and Christine knew that Sapphira wasn't one to take a turndown lightly, and had to remain on their guard. "I trust your new lover will be treated better than Pietro--or I--was," the Vulcan shot back.

Sapphira's reply was cold and hard. "Pietro got what he deserved. As for you, if it hadn't been for your paramour, you would have gotten the same for refusing me. And if you think I'm going to step down without a fight--"

Sareenah silently cheered her new-found friends as she pulled her blanket tighter around her and drew her knees closer to her, tucking her dirty, bare feet as far beneath her as possible.

"We didn't expect you to," Christine said. "So if you want to stay, I suggest you clean up your act."

Sapphira took a defiant stance. "And if I don't?"

"Then we'll do all in our power to stop you...and rescue the people you've victimized."

"Oh, really. Just the two of you," Sapphira sneered. "What can you do?"

"A lot more than you think," Christine threw back.

"So you and your Federation plan to simply come in and take over." Sapphira's voice was dangerously quiet. "That's what you think." A laser-gun materialized in her hand, and she pointed it at Sareenah. "If either of you make a move, the _raphix_ dies... and her death will be the first of many."

Christine pulled out a phaser from her pocket and pointed it at the other woman. "And yours will be next if you don't hand over that weapon."

"You won't kill me," Sapphira taunted confidently.

"Don't tempt me." The Doctor's tone was ominous.

"Christine, this is not necessary," Spock scolded. "Put the phaser away."

"Not until Sapphira hands over the laser-gun." Her tone was such that even Spock sensed her determination--but neither was he going to back down, especially not in front of Sapphira.

"_Now_, Christine."

"_No_." She stood her ground. "Sareenah has committed no crime."

"_Yes_," a new voice cut in. "Put the weapon away, Miss Chapel. I'll deal with her."

They all turned to find Captain James T. Kirk standing there, obviously having followed them, flanked by three red-shirts, all four with phasers drawn...which didn't surprise Spock one bit. The look in the Captain's eyes was all that was necessary for Christine to do as he wished.

"Who are you?" Sapphira demanded of the newcomer, her weapon hand never wavering. "I insist that you tell me!"

"You're in no position to demand anything. After what you've done, your authority is extremely limited here." Kirk's voice rang with the power of command.

"I am the ruler of this planet. I make the laws here. This woman broke them. I have the right to see her punished."

"Falling in love isn't a crime." Kirk's voice was hard; his phaser remained pointed at Sapphira. "And nothing gives you the right to abuse people on a whim."

Sapphira's voice was icy. "This is none of your affair, Captain. It is outside Federation jurisdiction."

"Not where innocent lives are concerned," Kirk shot back. "Now hand over that laser-gun or else I'll be forced to stun you...and you'll wake up in our Brig, under arrest."

"You wouldn't dare," Sapphira blustered. "Not when I have the weapon pointed at her head."

She held the laser-gun to Sareenah's head, finger on the trigger. Sareenah didn't flinch but paled and trembled with fear for her life. Her eyes met Christine's, giving her the strength she needed, along with the knowledge of Pietro's love.

"As Christine said earlier, if anything happens to her, you'll be next." Kirk's reply was deadly calm. "And _I'm_ not bluffing," he added, aware of her pretense.

Sapphira's glance was equally deadly. "Bluffing, am I? What if I just told you that Pietro is scheduled to be castrated in less than half an hour?"

Kirk turned pale, but his phaser never wavered--nor did those of the three Security officers.

"No!" Sareenah cried in anguish. "Do what you like to me, but leave him alone!"

"Quiet, _grafeex_," Sapphira snapped.

Spock's eyebrows rose as Christine felt his horror and revulsion at the word, which translated "whore" in the Sapphiran language. He had picked up the rudiments of the language during the original mission three months ago.

_Spock, what does that word mean?_ she asked, dismayed at the strength of his mental shields when she tried to find out the word's meaning.

_Later, my wife. Suffice it to say that it is a term of hatred and contempt._

"Please don't let anything happen to Pietro," Sareenah entreated, seeming not to have heard the contrary command. "I couldn't bear it." Her tear-filled eyes pleaded with Kirk, whom she had sensed was in control of the situation, whatever Sapphira believed.

"Nothing will happen if we can help it." His voice was reassuring.

"Oh, really?" Sapphira sneered again. "And just how do you plan to do that? Only I can give the order to stop the castration, and I have no intention of doing that. He deserves it for cheating on me."

It was obvious that she wasn't going to budge any more than Kirk would, so another course of action was in order. No verbal instructions were necessary; even Sareenah seemed to know what to do without being told. Moments later, one of the Security men grabbed Sapphira from behind. They struggled, and her weapon discharged--but harmlessly into thin air, for Sareenah had ducked out of the way seconds before. Then Spock stepped up and rendered Sapphira unconscious with a nerve pinch.

The redshirt carried Sapphira as Setara led them back to Pietro's cell. When they arrived, he was being led out by two guards to where he would be castrated. The two guards were so taken by surprise at the sudden appearance of the _Enterprise_ contingent with the unconscious Sapphira that the other two Security personnel held them at bay with little trouble.

"Release him," Kirk ordered. Their hands dropped.

Pietro marveled at his sudden and unexpected freedom, but that didn't mean he was foolhardy enough to presume too much too soon. At least not until he heard a beloved voice speak to him as he strategically arranged the blanket around himself.

"Pietro."

He looked up, incredulous but happy to see Sareenah standing before him, her own blanket also strategically arranged around her slender body. She was beautiful to him even in her present state, and they threw themselves into each other's arms.

"Sareenah."

He lifted her chin and lowered his face to hers to find her lips. She stood on her tiptoes with her arms around his neck, being a full foot shorter than he at five feet four inches and over one hundred pounds lighter at 115 pounds.

After a tenderly passionate kiss, the two separated and Sareenah gently touched the wounds on Pietro's face. "I'm sorry to have put you through this, beloved," she said. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive," Pietro insisted. "What matters is that we are free and together again, thanks to Spock and Christine." Pietro sighed happily. "They hurt you!" he exclaimed upon looking Sareenah over.

"About the same as they did you," she told him.

Pietro's fighting blood was instantly aroused, but Sareenah's touch kept him in line. Not long afterward, Setara led everyone (except the guards and Sapphira, who were locked in Pietro's former cell temporarily for safekeeping) to where he and Sareenah's injuries could be treated, then they would bathe and dress.

While they waited, Kirk asked if there was any kind of planetwide communications system. "Pietro told me that there is a network which combines radio with satellite linkups," Spock replied.

"Does it reach all the planetary population?" Kirk asked.

"Not all of them; just the segments who have access to it, and they have to pay extra for the service. The rest have simply regular radio service."

"Do you know of a way to get to the ones who have only the regular radio service?"

"I am told there is, but it can only be utilized by those who work at the radio station."

"Is there anyone you know of who can reach both segments?"

"I believe Setara is capable," came the answer. "She is a communications expert."

"Then let's go ask her. If she called Starfleet, she should be willing to help get in touch with the planetary population."

"Logical," said the Vulcan.

"I also think it would be a good idea to announce that there will soon be an end to slavery and I have been authorized to state that anyone who objects will answer to the Federation. They must be made to understand that we have no wish to fight, but will if we have to--and that they will fare the worst for it.  
If they're truly peace-loving, they'll give in without bloodshed. Then we'll have an election to pick out the next ruler...and both men and women will be eligible. Once a democratic regime is in place, we can discuss Federation membership. How does that sound?"

Everyone around made affirmative responses, as did Pietro and Sareenah upon their return. They seemed transformed.

She wore a soft, pink floor-length robe with gold trim and sandals, her hair washed and styled in a braided chignon. The large Argelian/Human was dressed in a soft, green-and-black shirt and black pants, also with gold sandals. Both were patched up, but both McCoy, who had beamed down to treat Pietro, and Christine, who had treated Sareenah, said there would be no scarring.

"How does it feel to be clean--and free again?" Kirk asked Pietro with a smile.

Pietro returned it gratefully. "Perfect, Captain." He looked from Kirk to Spock, then back again. "You are the Captain James Kirk Spock has spoken of...his commander and closest friend?"

"The same," Kirk confirmed. "And you've met my Chief Surgeon and another close friend, Leonard McCoy." The Captain gestured to the Doctor, who bowed his head and smiled in Pietro's direction.

"He is very gentle. I felt little pain as he treated my wounds."

"That's Bones, all right," Kirk smiled. "Now we'd better get to the radio/satellite station and get things ironed out here. Does anyone know where it is?"

Setara spoke up. "I work there."

"Fine," Kirk said. "Now how do we get there?"

"We'll take my car. It's right outside."

Not everyone was inclined to go, particularly Pietro and Sareenah. All they wanted was to make up for lost time. The others nodded understandingly, leaving the reunited lovers behind at their quarters while the others piled into Setara's sleek ground-car. Spock and Christine sat in the spacious back seat with Kirk and McCoy; the Security officers were in front with Setara.

"How do you feel, Christine?" McCoy asked. "You told me you felt sick this morning."

"Pretty good. Just a little queasy right now," she assured him.

_You are ill?_ Spock mentally questioned his wife, alarmed that he had been too preoccupied to have felt her physical distress through their bond earlier.

_Don't worry, Spock. I'm sure it's nothing._ She smiled, and they held hands.

"I still want to examine you once we get back to the ship," McCoy told her.

"Fine," Christine replied absently, only half listening. The rest of her mind was on Spock, savoring the warmth of both his physical and mental touch.

"How long will it take to get to the radio/satellite station?" Kirk asked.

"About forty-five minutes, Captain," Setara responded from the front seat. There was no further conversation until they had arrived.


	8. Chapter 18, 19, 20 & 21

**eighteen**

The negotiations for an orderly transition back into democracy from slavery soon began, a process which would take several years and require the efforts of many talented people, Sarek and his female associate being only two, but at least it was a step in the right direction. It was also learned that, being a communications expert, Setara had tried every radio frequency she knew (and even some she didn't) until she had found the one for Starfleet and sent them the distress signal.

Considering Sapphira VII's location, it took three hours to reach the _Exeter_ and another three for Captain Rosenberg to reach the nearest Starfleet base and hear back from them, then inform Setara of their decision. In fact, the last signal had been received only an hour before Sarek and the _Enterprise_ were contacted.

Also, it was first thought that Spock had given Setara the Starfleet frequency...and the reaction Kirk got when he put this to his Vulcan friend and colleague was a mixture of shock and horror. They had been sitting together at the table in the living area of the quarters Spock shared with his wife.

"Jim, how could you possibly think that? It would be a flagrant violation of the Prime Directive, as well as totally illogical. I would hope that you know me better than that by now. The Starfleet frequency is known only to those in Starfleet, by the authorities on Federation member planets or those allied with the Federation in the event of an emergency."

"All right, I'm sorry. Just covering all the avenues." Kirk looked up at his alien friend, a mixture of fear and question on his face.

Spock gave his Human friend a reassuring smile. "Do not worry, Jim. You are forgiven. It simply came as a...surprise."

"You should also have known that it's my duty to discover all I can about a given situation. I can recall when you kidnapped Captain Pike. That call you got came from the Talosians, didn't it?" Kirk's sharp glance forced the Vulcan to answer.

"Yes--but that has no bearing on the present situation. As I said, I did not give Setara the Starfleet frequency. She discovered it entirely on her own."

Kirk nodded understandingly. "I think that's been pretty well established. Now let's talk about Christine. I think I know why she's been feeling ill, particularly in the morning. Do you think she might be pregnant?"

"I cannot be certain until she returns from Sickbay and informs me of the results of her physical."

"Would you like me to be here, or would you prefer that it be just the two of you?"

"That would be desirable, at least at first. After that, I should be able to decide when to inform you of the results."

"When is she due back?"

"Within fifteen minutes."

"I'd better go, then--but let me pose one last question. If she _is _pregnant, will you be pleased?"

The Vulcan raised an astonished eyebrow. "It would be illogical for me not to be pleased that my wife is to have a child. Of course, this is assuming that she is, in fact, pregnant."

Kirk looked at the chrono. "Well, I've got some paperwork to finish. See you later. Let me know what she says."

The Captain smiled, then stood up and made his exit out the double doors to head for his own quarters. Spock allowed himself an affectionate smile at his friend's retreating back, then picked up his harp and began to compose a song for not only his wife, but their possible child, in order to pass the time until she returned.

Spock became so engrossed that he didn't hear her come in or call to him. Not until she removed the stylus from his suddenly nerveless fingers, set it aside, then lifted his chin and kissed him did Spock realize she was there.

"My wife, you have returned."

Neither his voice nor face showed the effect her kiss had on him, but the feelings she was getting through their bond told her that he had enjoyed it as much as she.

"Good news, beloved," she announced with a smile. "Dr. McCoy says I'm pregnant."

Spock was too stunned to react at first--and there was such a long silence that Christine wondered if he were ever going to speak again.

"Spock, please say something. You're scaring me."

But he didn't say anything. Instead, she was pulled close and hugged until she was breathless, too surprised to even think. All she was aware of was Spock's arms around her. After a long, happy moment, he released her, then they looked into each other's eyes.

"Does that make you feel better?"

There was another silence after this, but Christine felt her husband's happiness at her joyous news and saw it in his soft brown eyes.

"It certainly does." Tears of both happiness and relief filled her eyes.

"You have just made me the...happiest man--Vulcan--in the universe. We will not only be husband and wife, bonded mates, but parents. And I hope we have a girl, to look like you."

"And here I was hoping for a boy to look like you," Christine teased as the couple maneuvered themselves onto their bed, propping the pillows behind their backs before she cradled her head on her husband's shoulder, his clasped hands resting on the indented curve of her still-slender waist, and her left hand over his heart to feel its rapid, steady beat.

"Perhaps we will have twins," he suggested hopefully.

Christine looked up at him with mock horror. "Don't even think it. The idea of being pregnant with your child is overwhelming enough."

He looked back at her. "How far along are you?"

"About two weeks. That's how long I've felt sick--since shortly before we arrived on Sapphira VII again. I'm glad we managed to set things in motion toward democracy again. It'll take years, but from what you've told me, the outlook is most promising. And best of all, Sapphira is no longer in a position  
to harm anyone."

"Indeed," her husband concurred with a half-smile and kiss. "Now we must contact Mother and tell her of your pregnancy, so that she may advise you on how to deal with it."

"After we tell our friends," his wife insisted. "They deserve to know first."

The Vulcan couldn't argue with that. "I have also been working on a song...for you and our child," he quietly confessed.

She smiled and caressed his cheek with one hand. "I'm sure it'll be beautiful. I can hardly wait to hear it." Christine sighed and put a hand on her belly; Spock moved to cover her hand with one of his own. "We're going to have a baby. It's almost too good to be true."

"You would also do well to 'drop a line'--as Humans put it--to your parents to inform them," he told her.

"Oh, believe me, I will. And they're going to be thrilled. They've about given up hope of my ever giving them grandchildren. A lot of their friends already have at least two."

"You had to find the right man before it would be possible for you to accommodate them. Surely they realize that."

"Of course they do--and I'm thankful for it, because it wouldn't have been easy for either them or me. I'm also betting that none of their friends' children are married to Vulcans. Not that I'd wish on anyone what _I've _had to endure. You weren't exactly easy to convince, you know."

Mischief danced in her blue eyes as his eyes widened. "Don't look so surprised. You know it's true. But don't worry; as hard as it was, the waiting--and my efforts--were well worth it...and I'd do it again. But not everyone has the emotional strength and tenacity to pull it off."

The Vulcan decided to leave well enough alone and simply say, "True, but other than myself, there are only approximately two dozen Vulcan/Human hybrids, offspring of the same number of interspecies couples. And I am the only hybrid of marriageable age. The oldest of the others is less than twenty Vulcan years of age."

"That would be old enough to be bonded," Christine pointed out.

"Agreed--and roughly half of them are. The rest will be allowed to choose for themselves. As you may imagine, this... distresses T'Pau considerably." The Vulcan sounded almost pleased.

"Well, isn't that too bad--but not even she can slow down the wheels of progress forever," his wife stated confidently. "Maybe by the time our child grows up, hybrids will be commonplace on Vulcan."

Spock was dubious about that possibility, considering the extent of T'Pau's influence. "I doubt that, my wife, considering the way my parents and I have been treated...and how stubborn the traditionalists such as T'Pau are."

"We can hope, anyway," Christine persisted.

"Yes," the Vulcan had to acknowledge.

The couple rested together for some hours, until 2300, which was when Spock gently suggested they retire. Christine didn't argue, for she was too tired. It had been a long shift and the pregnancy test had literally taken even more out of her. (Because of the child's mixed heritage, she not only needed a urine test but a blood test.)

A short time later, they were changed and in bed. Almost immediately, Spock put himself into a sleep-trance, since he had an early shift. Her shift would begin when he got off. Not a pleasant prospect, but they didn't make the rules. Christine would simply have to write her parents about her pregnancy at the first opportunity. As she drifted off to sleep in her husband's arms, she thought of the second stargram she would write and what her parents' reaction would be to the news that she was finally going to have a child.

Both Sarek and Spock had written Amanda, each giving their own versions of what had happened upon arrival at the planet. Christine had some input in the latter's stargram. After leaving Sapphira VII, they headed back to Vulcan to retrieve their wedding gifts, but it would be several days before they arrived. Meanwhile, both sent out stargrams to their parents, informing each set of Christine's pregnancy the following day. At best, she would be able to carry the child for the entire nine months  
of a Human pregnancy--and this only after a delicate operation in which McCoy would remove the child, make adjustments so the fetus could grow in a Human uterus, then replace it in her body. Even then, it would be necessary to place the baby in an artificial womb for three months to complete its growth and development, because Vulcan pregnancies lasted a year.

Christine had also added something to her husband's stargram, requesting that Amanda tell her what to expect in a Human pregnancy where the father was a Vulcan--or half Vulcan, in this case. Since Spock's Vulcan side was dominant, Christine was fairly sure that her pregnancy wouldn't be too different from Amanda's.

She was glad to note, however, that Spock had suggested that the notes from his mother's physician, Dr. Daniel Corrigan, and his Vulcan partner, Sorel, be sent on to them...and upon receipt, all concerned would sit down with McCoy and go through them, so each would know what to do in the event it became necessary. She also decided to have Spock bond with their child later on in her pregnancy by putting his hand on the swelling of her belly where the baby's head was, holding it there with her own. Not until it was nearer her due date would they discuss their child's future and things like names.

There was plenty of time to decide what she wanted to do, then talk about it with Spock, see where they agreed and where they would need to compromise. Of course, there were some things where neither would (nor could) compromise, but Christine told herself to worry about that when the time came. What mattered the most at the moment was making sure that their child would be born healthy.

Several days later, Christine heard from her parents. As she had surmised, they were thrilled to learn that she would at last give them a grandchild. On this particular day, Christine got off-duty shortly before her husband did, about 2400. He had just come off Beta shift, as had she, but she arrived first since she was closer to their quarters.

She again showered and put on a long, lacy nightgown. She left her hair down after combing it and wore the rose-t'lerya perfume, putting on some instrumental music and lying back on the bed, re-reading the latest stargram from her parents. Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and her husband called to her.

"Christine?"

"In here, Spock," she called from the bedroom.

He joined her there, leaning down to brush her lips in a kiss of greeting, noting the paper in her hand and asking what it was.

"I heard from my parents," she told him. "They're thrilled that we're expecting a child. They also intend to send us something for the baby that I used when I was a baby."

Spock allowed himself a smile at the news.

"I'm sure it's on its way, love," she replied to his unspoken question. "I wouldn't be too concerned. We _are _closer to Earth than Vulcan at the moment, you know."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at his wife, then said, "I hope you are correct."

"So do I. Now put it out of your mind and come join me."

When her husband sat down beside her, Christine set aside the stargram and opened her arms. Spock hesitated only a moment before moving into them. She held his head close and stroked his silky, dark hair as he tentatively slid his arms around her. For a long time, the Vulcan was silent in his wife's arms, simply savoring her closeness and perfume, having no interest in anything except being held by her...and vice versa.

At least an hour passed in this way, and Christine was all ready to point out that they should undress and get under the covers when she discovered that Spock had already put himself into a sleep-trance, his head heavy on her breast and his arms gently but securely around her. She maneuvered them so that they were lying down, simply holding him as he slept.

Christine was also able to buy presents for Spock, Uhura, McCoy, and even Kirk while planetside at Sapphira VII. Uhura would receive a red-and-gold harem outfit, Spock a dark blue jumpsuit with soft black boots to wear when off-duty in the privacy of their quarters, and McCoy a native plant reputed to have healing qualities.

Kirk's gift was a custom-made (according to Christine's instructions and descriptions) scale model of the _Enterprise. _Christine had also bought her mother-in-law a bottle of native perfume. She had even asked Spock's advice as to what Kirk might like. He had suggested several things, but left it up to her to choose which one to purchase. He had also suggested some things the Doctor might like when she mentioned she also wanted to get something for McCoy, but again left it up to her to choose what to buy.

Spock had also seemed to know when she wanted to buy his gift, so he had excused himself and rejoined her after purchasing another gift for her and gifts for his two friends. It wasn't easy, for Spock wasn't one to buy gifts, but suggesting things to Christine had helped him in his own selection.

She and Spock had even been honored guests at the wedding of Sareenah and Pietro only two days before the _Enterprise_'s scheduled departure after a four-week stay. They had also met several CRSD members at the wedding. They particularly liked Savanna, a friend of Sareenah's mother, who had served as Matron of Honor, and Willem, Sareenah's brother, who had served as Pietro's Best Man.

Spock had "loved" the jumpsuit his wife got for him, as Uhura did her outfit. She didn't need to tell Nyota to only wear it in the privacy of her quarters, possibly in place of a nightgown, or as a lounging outfit. The moment the Bantu laid eyes on it, she knew she would cause a riot among the male crew if she ever wore it in public. Neither suspected that the Captain would be too pleased about that, but knowing his eye for the ladies, she was sure he have loved it if he ever had the chance to see it.

The plant she got for McCoy was similar to the Terran variety of cactus which secreted aloe vera, a lotion with healing and cleansing properties...a most appropriate gift for a doctor...but all similarities ended there. The plant and its secretion were radically different in both name and appearance to its Earth counterpart.

She hoped Leonard knew how much she appreciated his friendship for both her and Spock, as well as the favors he had done for both--such as giving her away at the shipboard wedding, acting as surrogate father of the bride, since Christine's parents could not attend…then acting as Spock's Best Man while Kirk married them. The wedding gifts were beamed up from Vulcan upon arrival, but Amanda insisted on coming aboard with them, if only to verify the fact that her loved ones were all safe and well.

Spock told her later that Kirk had been deeply touched at the gift she had given him: a minutely detailed, 1:24 scale model of the _Enterprise_. The Vulcan had said that the Captain had been speechless for a time, then his eyes had misted over. He had also said to tell her that it was beautiful and that he would treasure it always.

Spock's own gift to Kirk was a custom-made music box with sculpted figures of the two of them in civilian clothing on its top and the melody of "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother". They listened in silence as it played after he had given it to Kirk, then looked at each other with undisguised affection.

"I love it, Spock. Thank you so much."

"I...considered it an appropriate gift to…commemorate our friendship and show you how much I--value it."

The Vulcan's voice was quiet and his head was bowed; Kirk saw a tinge of green in his friend's face and ears, smiling as he replied.

"Our friendship is a gift we give each other every day," the Captain told him.

In the next moment, the two friends embraced warmly. Not a word was spoken during the time they held each other; words could not improve on the perfection of the moment. Several minutes passed before they released each other…then Spock stood up.

"I must return to Christine now. I still have to give her _her_ wedding gift from me."

"What did you get her?"

"A custom-made Vulcan gown and earrings to wear with it. Mother placed the order for me, and it arrived yesterday."

Kirk smiled. "Sounds nice. Now get to it before she comes looking for you. See you tomorrow, Spock." The Captain turned toward his bathroom to shower, then change into fresh underwear in preparation for bed.

"Sleep well, Jim."

The Vulcan gave his Human friend a half-smile before departing for the larger quarters he shared with his wife on D Deck, a suite of rooms he and Christine had moved into shortly after their marriage. She had already planned what the nursery would look like, making Spock promise that he wouldn't try to see what she was doing in there until she said it was all right. He was too honorable to spoil the surprise, but did allow himself occasional moments of curiosity.

Shortly before they resumed their duties the following day, Spock gave Christine a medium-sized, rectangular package and told her to give it to McCoy for him at the first opportunity. To put it mildly, she was surprised...but would gladly do so, knowing that the Vulcan could not have done it himself. At least not easily.

"Spock, _you _are giving Leonard a gift?"

"To show my…appreciation for his attending me at our shipboard wedding," was the reply.

"It was something any close friend would do," she pointed out.

"I have had...very few close friends," he reminded her.

She nodded understandingly. "What's in it?"

"A copy of the Hippocratic Oath handwritten in calligraphy on parchment under glass. He can either hang it on his office wall or the wall of his quarters."

"I think he already has one under transparent aluminum in his office," she remarked. "But I'm sure he could find a place for this in his quarters."

Spock nodded in acknowledgment. "I had best report to the Bridge now, my wife, and you to Sickbay. It would not do for either of us to be late."

The couple crossed fingers, then shared a brief but tender kiss before the First Officer turned around and left. Christine finished dressing and left five minutes later, carrying Spock's gift to McCoy. She could hardly wait to see Leonard's reaction when she gave it to him and told him who it was from. Perhaps it would be wise to tell McCoy to sit down first...

She did just that during a short break in their shift, cornering the Doctor in his office. "Leonard, could I see you a minute?"

McCoy smiled. "Sure, Chris. What's on your mind?"

"You'd better sit down first. This may come as something of a surprise."

McCoy couldn't imagine what his assistant was referring to, but seated himself in his desk chair. "If you say so."

Christine brought her right hand from behind her back. "I was asked to give you this." She handed him a brightly wrapped gift with no ribbons or bows.

His right eyebrow rose in a gesture reminiscent of Spock. "What's this? You already gave me a gift for giving you away at your shipboard wedding."

"This isn't from me. Open it."

McCoy gave her a strange look, but did as told. Upon unwrapping the gift, he examined it in silence, then said, "It's beautiful. Now who's it from?"

"Guess."

"I don't feel like guessing. Tell me." But Christine shook her head, forcing the Doctor to wrack his brain. Finally, he asked, "Spock?"

She nodded with a smile.

McCoy stared at her wide-eyed. "But he doesn't usually give gifts…not to me, anyway."

"He said this was for your being his best man at our first wedding. Do you like it?"

McCoy smiled and nodded. "As I said, it's beautiful. I'll treasure it--but I'll keep this in my quarters."

"Spock may not give gifts often, and not to just anyone…but when he does, you know he means it...that he really cares."

Christine's eyes pleaded with McCoy not to even consider teasing Spock, because that was part of the reason the Vulcan was so hesitant to show his feelings of friendship for him…or give him the gift in person. With his uncertain mental and emotional state in the wake of _Kolinahr,_ V'ger and the Sapphiran mission, the last thing Spock wanted to risk was the Doctor's teasing, however well-intentioned. At the same time, the Vulcan still wished to give a token of his appreciation for what McCoy had done for him.

"Leonard, don't be so quick to pounce on any emotion Spock might show. I know you mean well, but the way to encourage him is by seeming pleased that he's showing emotion and by respecting his Vulcan dignity. By that, I mean that he is as proud of being Vulcan as we are of being Human. We must respect that, as he respects _our_ dignity."

Then Christine suggested, "It might also be a step in the right direction if you thank him for it personally. Who knows, if you play your cards right, Spock just may give you a gift in person next time around."

Of course, there was no guarantee McCoy would listen to her, particularly if an opportunity to catch the Vulcan in an emotional act presented itself, but one could hope. She hoped the Doctor would do it at least once, if only to see what Spock would do... and be encouraged by a positive reaction on Spock's part to his changed behavior, even if the Vulcan was suspicious at first.

The female Doctor smiled at her superior and friend as she turned to leave. "I'd better get back to work now."

The Chief Surgeon looked at his desk chrono, picked up his datapad, then got up and followed his assistant out to continue their duties.

**nineteen**

And so it began. Kirk and Uhura were every bit as thrilled upon learning of Christine's pregnancy and they--along with McCoy and the parents-to-be--would be there to review the medical data in order to be of as much help to one another as possible. Christine's mother had even told her that she had had morning sickness to such an extent that she found it almost impossible to keep food down for a solid three months.

Amanda's own morning sickness had lasted for the first four-and-a-half months, and her unusual craving had been for something she ordinarily disliked, such as plomeek soup. As for Ann Chapel, her craving had been for gooseberry pie, starting in her fourth month and continuing until two weeks before Christine's birth. Concerning Christine's own cravings, she didn't just have one particular food that she craved--she had several.

One of her combinations was ice cream and pickles with macaroni and cheese, along with orange juice and caffeine-free Pepsi...and that was one of her more innocuous concoctions. Others literally turned Spock's stomach, but they didn't seem to hurt Christine or the baby, so it must be all right for her to eat like that.

Perhaps it was even normal for a pregnant woman. Not that much she did seemed at all normal these days. Of course, Spock had never had a pregnant wife before, so he couldn't have imagined what was and what wasn't normal in a pregnancy, especially one as unique as this. But thanks to the Doctors' notes, he was aware of what to expect, even the unpleasant things…and his mother and two friends helped him to deal with them.

Spock frankly hadn't believed it possible that a hybrid such as himself could _have_ children. Perhaps it was something in his Vulcan/Human makeup which made it possible...or perhaps it was the genetic engineering which had made him the exception to the rule. But then, that came as no surprise to Spock. He was the exception to the rule in virtually every life situation.

Christine's morning sickness hadn't been too bad, because her mother had advised her not to get up quickly when she felt sick, but simply lie quietly...and keep some dry crackers at her bedside and eat them to ease her nausea. Even at that, she knew her luck couldn't hold out forever; there would come times when nothing she could do would stop the nausea.

When that happened, Spock had promised to be there to help her as often as he could. There were also supposed to be sharp cramps, but according to Amanda, they shouldn't begin until she was well along into the pregnancy--fourth month at the earliest. Amanda had also told Christine how to tell the difference between cramps and contractions.

Spock also wished that he could spare his wife the times she had to be sick. They could not be at all pleasant for her. He could not recall having to do it himself very often, but remembered vividly the vile taste in his mouth afterward, and sometimes even what McCoy called "dry heaves", when he felt like throwing up even though there was nothing left in his stomach…and Christine had to deal with this every day for several months, not for simply a matter of hours or days.

He was there to help as often as he could, but sometimes it happened too fast for him to assist her, or else he wasn't there when it happened. It wasn't a realistic expectation when one was on duty aboard ship. The only way to always be there for her would be if they were planetside, on leave, and that couldn't happen for several weeks, if not months. Still, when all was said and done, the Vulcan was proud and happy to be a husband...and now an expectant father. He was even more happy and proud that the mother of his child was also his wife. He could endure anything as long as she and his friends were beside him.

It was a month later that the package from her parents arrived. Spock arranged his schedule in order to ensure that he would be present when the package was opened. Christine was feeling fairly well, at least for the time being. Each of them well knew that that could change at any time, yet both were determined to enjoy it as long as possible.

Christine pulled out the gift, wrapped in paper covered with teddy bears, rattles and blocks. She unwrapped it to find a hand-embroidered christening outfit with a matching bonnet, along with yellow and white hand-crocheted bootees. She also found a note in her mother's handwriting when she unfolded the outfit.

The tag merely said, "For the Baby," but the note said:

_Christine, _

_This is the outfit, bonnet and bootees you wore when you were christened 35 years ago. If Spock has no objections, please use this for your baby. Take care of it as I have._

_Love, Mother _

"What is it, my wife?" the Vulcan asked as she held up the outfit to show him.

"Mama's note said that it was my christening outfit, bonnet and bootees I wore as a baby. She wants us to use it for our baby--if you have no objections." She looked up at him, asking the question with both her eyes and mind.

"If it is what you wish, my wife, we shall use it," Spock replied quietly.

"Your opinion is what matters here, Spock. If you object, we won't use it."

The Vulcan seemed taken aback for a moment, then said, "It is not that I object, _m'chejan_. My concern is that it may not be appropriate in the event we have a male child."

"Of course it is. That's why it's embroidered instead of having lace, and why the bootees are yellow instead of pink or blue as baby girls' and boys' things usually are. Yellow is considered a neutral color, appropriate for either a boy or girl."

"What if we have twins? It _is_ possible, you know."

"We'd have to get another christening outfit, but I don't think it'll be necessary."

Spock raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Why not?"

"Because Dr. McCoy told me that it was a single child I was carrying. I just found out, so don't worry that I've been keeping anything from you. I haven't had a chance to tell you until now, that's all."

She felt his relief and smiled reassuringly. "Do you object or not?"

Her husband gave her a half-smile and reached to cross fingers with her. "I do not. We will use the christening outfit."

"Thank you, my husband."

"You are quite welcome, my wife."

She felt the warmth of his consciousness embracing hers.

In the next moment, he felt distress from her and frowned with concern. "Are you feeling ill, Christine? If you are, I will assist you."

Christine smiled even as she fought back the nausea. "Yes; I'm afraid I'm going to be sick."

She clasped a hand over her mouth and hurried off to the bathroom. Spock followed her, and upon arrival, put an arm around her to steady her, then she leaned against him when she finished.

"Thank you, Spock."

He reached his free arm to flush the toilet, dismissing it. "It was my duty. You are my wife and carrying my child."

A moment later, Spock brought his wife to her feet, assisting her to their bed. "Do you wish something to drink?"

"Orange juice, thank you."

"One moment."

He moved to the food synthesizer and called up the drink for her, then came back and handed it to her a couple of minutes later. She drank it gratefully, draining the glass in a matter of seconds.

"Thanks; I feel a lot better. I think I'll lie down now."

He nodded modestly, eyes closing, then opening again with a half-smile. "I will stay with you."

"You don't have to. Besides, I was planning to go to sleep for the night."

"I do not have...anything more important to do. In addition, I would--prefer to be with you."

Christine sighed. "Suit yourself. It's fine by me."

She turned to her chest of drawers, opened the top right drawer and pulled out a summer nightgown. After going into the bathroom again, she changed into the nightgown and brushed her teeth. When she returned, he was in bed waiting for her. He usually wore an undershirt and briefs, though the temperature in their quarters was kept at Earth normal (which always felt cold to the Vulcan) to accommodate Christine.

Eighty degrees was the minimum he could tolerate without extra clothing and seventy the most she could handle in her condition, wearing a light summer nightgown. The only light was the flame-pot as he took her into his arms and nuzzled his face into her fragrant hair before turning her head to face him and kissing her good night.

Christine's last thought just before she and her husband fell asleep was how interesting it would be to see how Sarek and Spock reacted to yet another of their Human wives' customs and how easy it was to imagine what each would say about a Terran "baby shower". Until then, however, she simply intended to savor the warmth of her husband's body and the feel of his arms around her, not only representing security and strength, but infinite love.

Christine was sure she was going to go stir-crazy before her pregnancy was over. She could understand protectiveness, but this was ridiculous. Admittedly, her pregnancy would be tricky, but she _wasn't_ porcelain and she _wasn't_ going to break--yet there seemed no way to get that fact through McCoy and Spock's heads. If the Doctor weren't watching her, which was the majority of the time, Christine had to endure Spock 's ministrations, which were fast becoming tedious. They had been touching and flattering at first, but now... There were times she felt like yelling, "For Heaven's sake, Spock, stop hovering over me!"

She had bouts of morning sickness roughly every other day now, no matter what she did--and not always in the morning. It had proved annoying, not to mention inconvenient, when it came in the middle of examining a patient or working on medical files. (Christine had insisted on remaining on regular duty as long as possible.)

She had even been told by McCoy that she was likely to have it for at least half her pregnancy, according to Corrigan and Sorel's notes. Four-and-a-half months of being sick as a dog wasn't a pleasant prospect, but the knowledge that it would end at some point comforted her. Best of all, she and Spock would have a healthy, beautiful child when it was all over.

Herbal teas, water, fruit juices and milk were the safest drinks to have during a pregnancy...and fish, cheese, beans and eggs were excellent sources of protein. Dairy products were also rich in calcium and whole-grain or enriched bread, dried fruit and green vegetables would supply her with the iron she needed to avoid anemia. Fruit and vegetables also provided needed vitamins.

McCoy had told her she didn't need to eat a lot and should only gain about fifteen kilos, or roughly thirty pounds, during the pregnancy. Of course, she already knew all this, but humored him. Not that she could have eaten or drunk the wrong things if she'd wanted to. Her two faithful watchdogs, the ever-vigilant Leonard McCoy and her even more vigilant husband, would see to that.

It wasn't until her fifth month and she was actually looking pregnant that it was decided to hold the baby shower in the Officers' Lounge as soon as everyone had gotten off-duty--provided Christine felt up to it. Their friends had had plenty of time to get baby things for them and both Amanda and Ann Chapel had sent maternity clothes.

One was a high-waisted, pastel green ankle-length, scoop-necked and short, eyelet-sleeved and bodiced dress which had been Amanda's favorite while she was carrying Spock. The only thing Christine had needed to do was lengthen it. In other places, it was adjustable to allow for the baby's growth.

After Christine finished dressing and came out of the bathroom, she called softly to Spock, who was sitting on the edge of their bed, holding his harp in his lap and absently stroking the strings.

"Spock?"

He looked up at her, seeming to look right through her for a moment--then his soft eyes filled with warmth and he smiled...the private smile he reserved only for her.

"You are…beautiful, my wife." His hand came up, middle and index fingers extended, and the couple crossed fingers as she reached him.

"I appreciate the compliment, my love, but I feel like a cow," Christine declared.

Spock's face almost seemed to glow with the intensity of his feelings for her. "You are not. You are carrying my child."

She smiled, tears filling her eyes at his declaration as he knelt down before her, then reached for her and held her close, cheek pressed to the swell of her belly that was their child. Her own arms reached to hold him, then lovingly stroked his silky hair. Christine didn't think it possible to feel so happy, fortunate or blessed. To belong to this extraordinary man, to love and be loved by him--surely it was all she could ever ask, for now and all time.

All too soon the moment was past, and Spock released her and stood up. "Are you ready, _m'chejan_?"

He didn't sound like he was, despite his brave front, but she didn't voice her concern. He would have denied it and besides, he probably sensed it, anyway.

"Yes. Let's go."

With that, the couple left their quarters, holding hands, oblivious to the swish of the double doors as they closed behind them.

When they arrived at the Officers' Lounge, about an hour after arriving at Vulcan, the Captain, McCoy, Uhura and Spock's parents were already there. One corner of the room had been fixed up to resemble a nursery. The couple was greeted warmly by their friends; even Sarek acknowledged his son and daughter-in-law with a nod and half-smile.

The younger Vulcan led his wife to the nearest, softest chair and deposited her there, then stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. The older couple sat on a padded bench seat facing the others.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Amanda asked Christine, getting up and moving over to stand before the younger couple. "Not too sick, I hope."

Christine looked up and smiled at her mother-in-law. "No. Cramps, mostly. Nothing I can't handle with the help of my two watchdogs." Her hand reached up to pat that of her husband, one of which was resting on her left shoulder, then her eyes moved to McCoy before coming back to rest on Amanda again.

"Have you eaten?" McCoy asked, his craggy face reflecting concern as he approached her. "I don't want you going too long without eating."

"I had a glass of milk and a roast beef sandwich a couple of hours ago, Leonard; Spock made sure of that. Now stop worrying about me, at least for a little while, and let's get on with the shower." She looked around at everyone; even the Vulcans seemed anxious to begin.

To her relief, the Doctor retreated back to his seat beside Kirk, who said, "You can get the baby gifts now, Uhura."

The dark woman disappeared for a time, then returned with an armload of gifts, distributing them to the givers. Her glance locked with Kirk's for a moment; he went to retrieve the last (and largest) gift, stopping in front of McCoy, the giver, who rested one hand on it.

Trays of drinks and finger foods were available on a nearby table, having been set up by Uhura an hour earlier. In fact, Kirk, McCoy and Amanda held glasses of fruit punch and were eating between swallows; Uhura nibbled and sipped intermittently as the shower progressed. Spock gently suggested to his wife through their bond that she at least have a drink, then went to get some orange juice for her. A moment later, the Captain rose to give his gift to the couple.

The Vulcan's eyes widened as he returned and handed Christine her orange juice, then misted over upon seeing the tiny white terrycloth sleeper, imported from Vulcan with miniature IDICs all over it.

"It's adorable," Christine declared from beside her husband after taking a swig of juice. "Thank you, Captain. "We'll certainly get plenty of use out of this."

Kirk's head bowed and he smiled modestly. "I hoped you'd like it. It's been a long time since I bought anything for a baby."

McCoy's gift was the largest--with good reason. It was a portable, fold-up playpen, which he had ordered from Earth. Spock insisted on opening it because he didn't want Christine overexerting herself trying to lift it. Not really surprising that the Doctor would think of it, since he was the only one present other than Sarek and Amanda who was a parent.

Of course, he had no way of knowing whether or not Spock had ever had one. Amanda was the only one he could ask who might know...though he was sure Christine had had one. It was the latter who spoke after the gift had been opened.

"I'm sure we'll be using this quite a bit, too, although that won't be for quite a while yet. Thank you, Leonard."

McCoy inclined his head, cheeks pink, and was speechless for once. Uhura's was opened by Christine--a white bonnet and sweater set with yellow trim, also ordered from Earth. Both her and the Doctor's gifts had been delivered to the _Enterprise_ via freighter.

She looked up and aimed a grateful smile at her friend. "This will go great with what my parents sent. Thank you, Nyota."

Uhura returned the smile, then asked, "What did your folks send?"

I'll get to that soon. For now, I want to see what Spock's parents got for us."

A few moments later, the expectant mother was rhapsodizing over the hand-knitted baby blanket in pastel shades of blue and green with a turquoise border. "It's beautiful, Amanda, but must have taken forever to do."

The older woman nodded and smiled. "Two months, to be exact ...but it was worth every moment, knowing that it was for my first grandchild."

Her tone conveyed her hope that the baby would be only the first of several grandchildren for herself and Sarek. However, only time (and Christine's health) would tell.

Sarek was as cool as the proverbial cucumber as he rose to give his own gift to Christine. She reacted as enthusiastically as she had with Amanda's. Both of Spock's parents' gifts (technic- ally, at least) came from Vulcan, though Amanda had had the yarn and other blanket materials sent from Earth.

"Oh, Sarek, how sweet! Where did you get this?" She held up a stuffed sehlat.

The elder Vulcan bowed his head with another half-smile. "It was...Spock's favorite toy when he was a baby and very young child. I--believed it would be an...appropriate gift for your child. My grandchild. Amanda has kept it carefully preserved."

This time, everyone (including his wife) looked at the Vulcan Ambassador in stunned surprise, not having expected him to give anything, each well knowing his opinion of such things as "baby showers" and gift-giving.

Spock himself felt his cheeks tinge with color, also keeping his head bowed upon recognizing his former "plaything". He was both touched and embarrassed (but not surprised) that his mother would keep it in such good repair; it was just the sort of thing she would do. The last thing he had expected, however, was to see it again, much less receive it as a gift for his own child...particularly from his "unemotional" father.

Christine felt her husband's emotions and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm sure our child will get just as much…use out of this as you did, Spock."

The Vulcan could only nod, unable to speak, as his color deepened. At last they came down to the package from Christopher and Ann Chapel, which like several of the other gifts, had been sent from Earth. There were oohs and ahhs over the intricate embroidery on the christening outfit and bonnet, not to mention the hand-crocheted bootees trimmed with white.

Uhura was unable to keep quiet. "You say that this was what you were christened in thirty-five years ago, Chris? Now I see what you meant when you opened my gift. I can hardly wait for your baby to be born. I'm sure he or she will be not only beautiful, but every bit as smart as you and Spock."

The couple both blushed and smiled modestly upon hearing this.

"Well, I think we've all had a pretty memorable evening," the Doctor observed with a grin upon finishing his drink. "But I think Christine ought to get to bed and get some sleep as soon as possible."

Christine felt pretty good at the moment, but knew that there was no budging either McCoy or Spock when they agreed on something, especially where her welfare and that of the unborn child she carried was concerned. The Humans got up and stretched; the older couple crossed fingers and turned for the door after bidding their son and daughter-in-law farewell. Spock offered to beam them down, but Sarek's free hand came up to stop him.

"Thank you, my son, but that is unnecessary. Come, my wife."

Amanda nodded and smiled in the others' direction, then disappeared through the Lounge doors with her husband.

"We had all best get to bed ourselves, people," Kirk announced, giving Uhura a meaningful look when the Bantu looked in the direction of the well-depleted food and refreshment trays. "Leave it for now, Uhura." His tone was gentle but firm, and the dark woman knew enough not to argue.

"We've got a long day tomorrow, what with the Fleet Commander's inspection when we arrive at Spacedock. Everyone's going to need to be on their toes and make sure to have everything in their departments shipshape for his arrival."

No one argued with that, the five of them going to their respective quarters to get some sleep, particularly the expectant parents, after taking the baby gifts and putting them on the table in their living area. The playpen was propped against the table. It was hard for Christine to get to sleep, being so keyed up; she only managed to relax after Spock rubbed her back and shoulders. Once she was asleep, Spock allowed himself to fall into a sleep-trance as he held her securely, hands resting on her enlarged belly.

**twenty**

About a month before the child was born, Christine made an appointment with the ship's Chaplain, Father O'Meara. No doubt Irish, and Catholic, but ships' Chaplains were supposed to be well-versed in all religious denominations...even non-Terran ones. The female Doctor wasn't sure if Father O'Meara would have any idea what to do once he learned that she was married to Spock, but she and her husband had discussed christening ceremonies, settling on the Terran Episcopalian ceremony, although the wording would be changed slightly to accommodate Spock.

Kirk usually only performed civil and military wedding ceremonies; O'Meara was on call for all religious weddings and christenings, as well as general spiritual guidance.

Christine had made the appointment for 1600 hours, having planned for Spock to accompany her, but had forgotten what shift rotation he would have. As a result, he was on duty at the time of the appointment, having started the fifth week of Gamma shift. Even at that, the Doctor was fairly confident she could arrange and explain things to everyone's satisfaction--or at least something everyone concerned could live with.

She pressed the buzzer to the Chaplain's office at the appointed time; his thick Irish brogue came back. "Come."

The doors slid open, and Christine stepped through...then moved from the foyer into the office area, where the silver-haired, blue-eyed priest sat behind a regulation desk. Religious paintings hung on the walls, along with a bronze crucifix. A chair was waiting for her in front of the desk. Father O'Meara rose and moved to help Christine upon seeing her advanced pregnancy, a paternal smile on his care-worn, kindly face.

"Here ye go, child. Best take a load off y'r feet."

Christine smiled gratefully as she settled into the chair.

"I understand that ye wish t' discuss christening f'r y'r child, Dr. Chapel," he remarked conversationally.

"Yes, Father. My husband and I have decided on the Episcopalian ceremony. However, I request that the wording be changed slightly."

The old Irishman's blue eyes widened behind his glasses. He had them because, like Kirk, he was allergic to Retinax-5, the drug which restored elasticity to the eyeball and usually negated the need for glasses.

"Why is that?"

"I am married to Commander Spock, Father. His father's people, the Vulcans, have radically different spiritual beliefs...but he is also half-Human, so he is willing to go along with the Terran christening ceremony--with the slight changes in wording I mentioned earlier."

The Chaplain reached toward a small set of well-preserved hardback religious books he had had since his seminary days on his desk, including the Bible, sitting near his computer terminal, and selected a small, dark blue hardback volume with a gold cross on the cover, leafing through it until he found the Episcopalian christening ceremony. He studied it for a time, then looked up at Christine again. After taking a deep breath, he described it to her and they discussed it, making the necessary changes to the designated lines as they went along.

He wasn't fond of the idea of changing the Baptism service to omit references to God and Christ, substituting neutral titles, but it was best to be as accommodating as possible. He wrote it down as they went along, then gave it to Christine to go over one more time; she examined it and pronounced it suitable.

"When is y'r child due, Dr. Chapel?" asked the priest.

"Another month," she told him. "But it is necessary for her--I'm having a girl, you see--to grow and develop in an artificial womb for three additional months, since Vulcan pregnancies last twelve months. You will be contacted when she comes out of the artificial womb."

"Is that all ye need t' discuss?"

"Yes, Father. Thank you." Christine smiled and nodded; O'Meara again moved to help her up and she departed.

Time seemed to fly by; sooner than anyone could have dreamed possible, it was only two weeks before Christine's due date. Spock had become more and more protective and solicitous of his wife as her pregnancy advanced, not allowing her to do anything which might harm her or their unborn child. McCoy had even said that it was best for them to refrain from lovemaking until at least six weeks after the birth. This was to ensure that Christine would not miscarry or deliver prematurely.

The nature of Vulcan pregnancies precluded a healthy child if delivery occurred before the full term of the pregnancy, so as difficult as it was to forego their physical joining, it mattered more that they had a healthy baby. The mind-link helped a lot on that score. The intensity of their mental joining was almost as great as their physical compatibility. They would be able to hold each other, kiss and touch, but anything more had to be assuaged by intense mental communion.

Spock sensed that Christine missed their interludes as much as he, but had no more intention of endangering their child than he did. McCoy had put her on maternity leave for the last six weeks of her pregnancy and she had spent the majority of that time putting the finishing touches on the nursery, having called Uhura to help her when she got too big to squat down and lift things. Uhura had seen Christine's handiwork and was enchanted by it, but was sworn to secrecy.

Christine had even sent to Vulcan for some IDIC and sehlat-cub wallpaper and crib sheets, as well as pictures and stuffed versions of baby animals from both Earth and Vulcan, though she had a feeling that the stuffed sehlat they had received, Spock's old toy, would be as well loved by their child as it had by Spock himself.

She had also ordered more baby clothes of all kinds, as well as diapers and other necessities for the care of a baby, mostly from Earth. They were also transported to the _Enterprise_ via freighter. Both Amanda and her own mother had sent their share of baby things for their new grandchild, all of which Christine had shown to Uhura. Not even McCoy or Kirk had been privy to their doings, and probably wouldn't be until after the baby's arrival and Spock himself had found out.

Spock had been taught that sex was primarily the means of having children and that finding pleasure in it was illogical. However, his mother's teachings and life with Christine had taught him that it was perfectly permissible to enjoy physical love in marriage with a loving spouse...and for a couple to remain lovers (that is, maintain a loving relationship) even after becoming parents. Indeed, it set a good example for their child or children.

Physical love was an integral part of a happy marriage for many--whether between Humans, Vulcans or Humans and Vulcans. But now the only way for Spock to show love for his wife and child was to refrain from physical love until after Christine had given birth.

The next thing anyone knew, it was time for the baby. Labor pains had struck Christine in the middle of writing a stargram to her parents on the computer she shared with Spock to thank them for their latest package of baby clothes and accessories she her- self had used at the same age. She had received a mental communication from her husband the moment she had felt the pain and pressure in her lower abdomen.

_Christine...are you in labor, my wife? _

_I believe so. _

_I am on my way._

She smiled at the warmth in his mind-voice. _Please hurry, Spock. The baby's coming._

_I am coming as fast as I can,_ he assured her. _If you wish, I will summon Dr. McCoy. _

_Fine. I'll try to get to our bed and get ready._

Spock arrived ten minutes later. Christine surmised that he must have run to make it here from the Bridge where he had been on duty, even considering the rapidity of the turbolift. She was on the bed with both pillows propped up behind her, legs bent and slightly apart, bare feet resting on the bed. Her dress had been pulled halfway up her thighs and she had removed her panties only moments before her water broke. She was also breathing as she should, pushing only when she felt pressure.

Spock sat down next to his wife, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. "The Doctor will be here shortly. How do you feel?"

"In pain, but that's normal. I'm also three-quarters dilated right now--seven centimeters, according to my scanner."

McCoy arrived a short time later, in surgical scrubs and carrying an emergency surgical kit. "How is she, Spock?" The Chief Surgeon asked as he entered the bedroom.

Christine scanned herself again and told him before Spock had a chance to answer. This time, she had discovered she was fully dilated. McCoy then went into the bathroom to scrub up. Spock was also pleased that she had not cried out in pain, even though he could feel her pain through their bond.

"Then the baby could come at any time. Be ready to play nurse, Spock, and help Christine if she experiences too much pain."

The Vulcan nodded in acknowledgment as he moved to the other side of the bed in order to get out of the Doctor's way, but still be available when he was needed.

**twenty-one**

Christine had gone into labor at 0800 hours that morning; it was nearly 2230 before the child was born. Several times she had needed a meld from Spock to ease the pain of childbirth, but by the time the baby was born and had been washed, rubbed down and wrapped in a large towel, his wife was virtually pain-free. The Vulcan had also wiped her perspiring face and neck with a cold, wet washcloth to cool her off, thankful that it was over, for the lengthy mind-melds had tired him.

The Doctor had given her a local anesthetic in order to put in three stitches for the episiotomy before checking the newborn child and pronouncing her fit--at least fit for as long as it took her to be placed in the artificial womb, which had been set up in Sickbay for the next three months, the remainder of a Vulcan pregnancy.

"You have a daughter, Spock," McCoy affirmed while they were waiting for the call which would tell them the artificial womb was ready for its new occupant. "Come meet her."

Spock followed McCoy's voice into the bathroom where the Doctor was holding a small, pink bundle in his arms. After the Vulcan had joined him, McCoy smiled and stated, "She's a quarter-Vulcan, as I expected…and has blue eyes right now, though I sus- pect they'll turn brown in the next few weeks. Also, your eyebrows, ears and complexion, but Christine's nose and lips. What have you decided to name her?"

Spock's sensitive ears caught the sound of his sleeping wife's quiet breathing, satisfied that she was resting comfortably, so he turned to answer McCoy. "Christine and I decided on the name 'T'Jaimee' for a girl."

"Jim should love it," said McCoy. "It sounds like a feminized Vulcan version of his name."

"It is, Doctor. It was the most logical female Vulcan name I could think of which would accommodate his Terran male name."

"Besides that, it's a lovely name," the Doctor observed.

"Thank you, Doctor," Spock replied quietly. "Now, do you not think Christine should stay in Sickbay overnight? That would give you the opportunity to monitor her condition, as well as supervise T'Jaimee's placement in the artificial womb."

McCoy's eyebrows shot up. "Bucking for my job, Spock?" The Doctor's hand went up to stop the retort on the Vulcan's lips. "Just kidding, Spock. It probably would be a good idea to keep Christine overnight, because something could crop up when we least expect it. Okay, wrap her up and I'll take the baby."

"Incidentally, Doctor," the Vulcan said as McCoy was wrapping the baby up more securely and positioning her in his arms, "I wish to inform you that even though I have named the baby for Jim, you may spend as much time with her as you wish and consider yourself another of her 'uncles'. I know I do not often express it, but I also consider you my friend."

The Doctor was too stunned to react for a moment, although he had to admit he had felt hurt at having been excluded earlier--and couldn't help feeling touched. "Thank you, Spock. That's very thoughtful of you. I appreciate it."

Spock nodded in the Doctor's direction with a half-smile as he positioned his sleeping wife in his arms and turned toward the door. "I am aware of how much you miss your own daughter, so this is my attempt to ease your loneliness without her."

This kindness and cautious affection made McCoy's eyes mist over and he silently vowed to try Christine's suggestion about not reacting to Spock's moment of emotionalism, if only to see how Spock reacted...particularly since the Vulcan had expressed concern for his own feelings. Perhaps this would mark the begin- ning of a closer relationship between them. He didn't trust his voice, merely smiled in Spock's direction and headed out with the baby, the Vulcan following in his wake with Christine.

The new parents got several visitors the following day after the tiny girl had been placed in the artificial womb, Kirk and Uhura among them. They even saw the baby in the artificial womb, doing the proper oohing and ahhing over both her beauty and her name. McCoy allowed it for a time, but after several hours put his foot down, declaring that Christine, who was still in the convalescent ward, and the baby needed rest and quiet. Only Spock was allowed to stay with his wife and child, and even his time was limited. Kirk and Uhura reluctantly left, but promised to return later.

Christine was released later that day. Spock wanted to carry her, so she allowed him to do so, even though she wanted to be ambulatory as soon as possible, because she was still quite sore. She would also be on mild pain medication until her episiotomy healed. McCoy advised at least two days' medical rest leave before she went on even light duty again, so shortly after they arrived, Spock saw to it that she followed the Doctor's orders.

Before that, however, she had her husband carry her to the nursery. Upon arrival, the voice-activated light in the room went on as they reached the door, which "sensed" their approach and automatically opened. He was speechless for a time as they stood in the doorway, taking it all in, then looked at her with misty eyes.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"It is...charming." Spock was unable to say any more, and she sensed that his emotions were overwhelming him.

She simply replied, "I'm glad you like it, my husband," and left it at that. A moment later she fell silent and he asked her why.

"Why are you silent, Christine?"

She sighed. "Just thinking of how long it'll be before T'Jaimee will be in this room. Three months…it seems an eternity."

Spock surprised her by setting her on her feet, then squeezing her gently from behind and nuzzling her throat. "I know, my wife. I share your impatience...but we must be thankful that our child is healthy and alive."

"Oh, believe me, I am," she assured him. "But that doesn't make it any easier to wait."

"You must not dwell on a circumstance you cannot change, my wife. You will upset yourself needlessly. In addition, you have commented many times on how fast time seems to pass--particularly our off-duty time. I am sure it will pass every bit as rapidly this time."

She reached up to stroke his cheek. "Do you really think so?" "I do. Now, let us retire. The Doctor wishes you to sleep."

With that, the Vulcan scooped his startled wife off her feet again and into his arms; the nursery light went off as he carried her to bed.

Spock was right about time passing quickly, though Christine found it difficult to believe him at first. After about two weeks or so, however, she looked up from doing some medical files and realized that at least the last week had gone by with her hardly noticing the passage of time. She had made a habit of visiting T'Jaimee in the "womb room" whenever she was free, be it on or off-duty, sometimes even forgetting to eat and sleep.

Spock had done all he could to make the time pass as quickly as possible and believed he'd been doing quite well--until one day when he had gotten off-duty earlier than expected and came down to Sickbay to check on Christine and the baby, he had discovered his wife lying on the floor of the "womb room" sound asleep, in front of the artificial womb.

She had obviously fallen out of the chair she had placed there. He carefully lifted her into his arms, then seated himself in the chair, resting her head on his shoulder as he cradled her in his lap. She awakened roughly an hour later, asking him if she had been lying on the floor because her last recollection had been of sitting in the chair.

He replied, "I came looking for you when I came off-shift approximately one point-three hours ago; Dr. McCoy said you were probably in here with our daughter. I found you lying on the floor in front of the chair next to the artificial womb and surmised that you must have fallen asleep and out of the chair, considering it more logical to hold you while you slept as opposed to leaving you on the floor.

"_M'chejan_, you _must _listen to me. You are going to make yourself ill if you do not get proper sleep and food. You will be of little use to T'Jaimee if you do not take better care of yourself."

Christine frowned. "Since when did you earn a medical degree, _Doctor_ Spock?" she retorted. You sound just like Leonard at his worst."

She knew all too well that she was run-down and had been driving herself too hard, but the last thing she wanted was to be lectured about it...especially from Spock, who had a talent for doing the same thing.

The Vulcan managed to look innocently aggrieved. "I am stating a fact. I do not need to be a physician to know that you have been driving yourself too hard. And incidentally, it is nearly 2300 hours. Let us retire so that you may regain some of your lost sleep, then we will eat upon awakening."

Christine sighed and gave in, too tired and weak to argue. "All right, Spock. You win."

Spock got to his feet and helped his wife onto hers. "Would you like me to carry you?"

Her answer was a deep yawn, which prompted him to sweep her into his arms again despite her sleepy protests. They went to bed immediately upon arrival at their quarters, and she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Spock lay awake holding her for about an hour, then put himself into a sleep-trance. He had been more tired than he realized, but dared not let his wife become aware of this, for he would never hear the end of it otherwise, considering the way he had lectured _her_.

Fortunately, there weren't many of these incidents in the ensuing weeks, mainly because both Spock and McCoy saw to it that there weren't. But the three months eventually passed, and far easier and faster than Christine could have imagined possible. Both of the new parents were there to see their child come out of the artificial womb, but the Doctor insisted on giving the baby a thorough physical before he would allow her to leave with her parents. Christine made sure that she was the one to carry her small daughter back to their quarters, and Spock--proud, happy husband and father that he was--was at his wife's side all the way.

She was unwilling to let the child out of her sight and Spock decided to humor her, at least this once. After all, she had waited an entire year to become a mother. She was entitled to a little irrationality. (Just a little, mind you.)

The next morning, as soon as Christine was awake and the baby had been dressed and fed, Father O'Meara was summoned for the christening. He arrived at Spock and Christine's quarters to find Christine sitting on the bed holding the infant girl, Spock sitting at his wife's side, with Kirk and Uhura present as godparents and McCoy as a family friend. Because of the personalities involved, he knew that the non-denominational service was the most "logical" for all those concerned.

"Is everyone ready?" the old priest asked as he approached Christine's bed, enchanted with the child in her arms--an exquisite little elfin creature with her father's ears and eyebrows, and her mother's nose and lips.

"Yes," Kirk said for all those present.

O'Meara carried a small basin of holy water. His eyes moved to meet those of Spock, and the Vulcan said, "We present this child to receive the Sacrament of Baptism."

The priest asked, "Will you, her parents and sponsors, be responsible for seeing that the child you present for baptism will be brought up with love and wisdom?"

"We will," replied the company in unison.

"Will you, by your witness, help this child grow into all that she is meant to be?" the priest inquired.

"We will," came the collective answer.

There were several other questions to be answered and the priest asked them in leisurely fashion, receiving the answers in the same manner...until finally, all that was left was the actual baptism. He dipped the fingers of his right hand into the basin of holy water and made the sign of the cross on the child's forehead after Christine had moved the edge of the bonnet back, making sure none went into her eyes.

As he did so, he stated, "I baptize thee in the name of the Maker of all things. And let it be known that from this day forward, that this child will be known as T'Jaimee, daughter of Spock of Vulcan and Christine of Terra." A short time later, the priest added, "Let us welcome the newly baptized. May peace always be with you."

"And also with you," the company replied.

Upon finishing, the elderly priest was thanked for his assistance; he gently dismissed it. "'Tis always a pleasure to welcome another new life int' this world."

He smiled in the baby's direction. "'Specially when 'tis as precious as this bonnie wee colleen." He touched the child's nose; she laughed, gurgled and reached for the priest's gnarled finger. "A strong little thing, she is," he commented approvingly as the child's tiny hand gripped his finger tightly enough to make him wince.

"Her Vulcan genes, no doubt," remarked Spock, a playful twinkle in his dark eyes.

Kirk and Uhura laughed; McCoy simply sighed and rolled his eyes Heavenward as if to say, "Give me strength."

"Just as 'T'Jaimee' is a beautiful name f'r a beautiful child," was the reply. "May she grow up healthy, happy and wise. I mus' leave now. 'Twas a privilege t' welcome her int' the world." He turned, nodded and smiled at everyone, then left.

The couple's friends made their farewells and departed after making sure their desire to babysit at the first opportunity was made known. McCoy had told Christine that it would be good for both her and the baby to sleep, and Spock had assured him that they would, whatever he had to do. Once they were alone, she lay down with their child in her arms. The Vulcan sat down on his side of the bed and watched them.

"The Doctor wants you to sleep, my wife."

"I will, I will. Right now, I just want to look at our baby. I've waited so long for this moment. She's so beautiful. I can hardly believe she's really here, really ours."

Her voice and gaze upon the child held such tenderness that Spock smiled in spite of himself. "Indeed," he murmured quietly.

For some time, the new parents simply communed with each other and marveled at their beautiful child, the little miracle they had created with their love. It was almost an hour later before Christine began yawning and her eyelids drooped. Spock reached to gently stroke his wife's hair after taking her head on his shoulder, his arms around her from behind even as she continued to hold little T'Jaimee in her arms. Christine smiled at his touch.

"Yes, I'll go to sleep now, Spock," she answered in reply to his unspoken request. "If you stay with me."

The First Officer was off-duty part of the next day, so he decided to grant her request, but teased her nonetheless. "Is that a medical order, my wife?"

"A request," she replied. "And if I remember correctly, you don't go on duty again until 1400 hours tomorrow. Time enough to get a good night's sleep."

The Vulcan sighed. "Very well." He situated himself on the bed facing his wife after maneuvering her so that their child was between them.

Christine looked up at her husband as she stroked their child's downy head. "You know something?"

Spock frowned at her question. "If you had asked me last year this time the last thing I ever expected when we first went to Sapphira VII, it would be for us to be married a year later and have a child. So much has changed since then."

The Science Officer nodded with a half-smile and reached to stroke his wife's cheek. "Did you know that I just heard that Pietro and Sareenah are going to have a baby of their own? She's about two months along. I hope they'll be as happy as we are."

"I am sure they are," Spock returned softly. "Let us sleep now."

He moved closer and drew his wife closer into his arms, once again resting her head on his shoulder as his cheek rested on her hair. The child, nestled between her parents, made soft baby noises…laughing, gurgling and cooing…for a while before falling asleep herself.

Things had indeed changed drastically over the last year. First, the _Kolinahr_ affair, then the V'ger incident, and shortly thereafter, the Sapphiran mission. Of course, the Vulcan had been more than halfway in love with Christine before they had ever gone there; the closeness they had shared simply completed the job. A little faster than Spock would have preferred, but in the end, he had gotten everything he had ever wanted.

If only for that reason, all were glad the mission had happened. And now that they were together, the couple vowed to be as happy as it was possible for them to be. It wouldn't be very hard at all now, for they had the kind of "bondage" each had dreamed of for years--the kind that neither wanted to be released from. Not now, not ever.


End file.
